


Bright Metal on a Sullen Ground

by Lynds



Category: X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, BAMF Charles, Because he's a dick, Charles Xavier has a Ph.D in Adorable, Charles is a Sweetheart, Charles is a manipulative little shit, Charles is a slytherin, Child Abuse, Erik Has Feelings, Erik Logic Is The Best Logic, Erik is a Sweetheart, Erik is the best king, Erik is very particular about that, Genosha doesn't have slaves dammit Charles!, Honestly Charles What Are You Thinking, Hurt Charles, I'm so sorry I thought I'd tagged for this to start with!, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Kurt Marko has different ideas, M/M, Misunderstandings, Past Child Abuse, Past Sexual Abuse, Poor Charles, Protective Erik, Slavery, only mentioned - Freeform, that fic where Charles is given to King Erik as a bed slave and no sex happens
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-03
Updated: 2020-06-15
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:54:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 19
Words: 35,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22548877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lynds/pseuds/Lynds
Summary: Erik and his band of rebels have finally defeated Shaw, taking the throne of Genosha. All Erik wants to do is get on with ensuring his kingdom, his people, are now free to have the security and peace they deserve, but Emma and Janos insist on some big audience to show off to the neighbouring countries, thank those who gave them support, and glare at those who didn't.Can they really blame him for causing a scene when Westchester strips a man naked and offers him to Erik as a bed slave?
Relationships: Erik Lehnsherr/Charles Xavier
Comments: 230
Kudos: 438





	1. I Know You All

**Author's Note:**

  * For [flightinflame](https://archiveofourown.org/users/flightinflame/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Armistice](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19747810) by [flightinflame](https://archiveofourown.org/users/flightinflame/pseuds/flightinflame). 



> I had so much fun writing this. And it was mostly written because Flight In Flame had my google doc open literally ALL THE TIME and squealed every time I wrote something new in it, and she has been extremely patient for me to start posting! 
> 
> The title and chapter titles are from Prince Hal's speech in Henry IV part 1 (Shakespeare) - Charles spends most of the fic pretending to be something he's not, and it has the words 'bright metal' in it, how could I resist??
> 
> For no reason whatsoever, Genosha is based on Karakorum in Mongolia - it's incredibly beautiful! I have no idea what the other countries I've mentioned throughout the fic are actually like in the comics, but I didn't want to choose any real places, and just listed a bunch of imaginary ones from the Marvel universe! Please don't explain in great detail that Stryker has nothing to do with Sokovia - I know that. I'm just stealing names lol! I hope you enjoy!

_I know you all, and will awhile uphold  
The unyoked humour of your idleness._

Janos stopped before opening the great doors to the assembly hall. “Stop scratching,” he said severely. “You’re a conqueror, not a louse-ridden boy.”

“I can’t help it,” Erik hissed. “This cloak is made of horsehair, I’m sure.”

Janos rolled his eyes. “It’s pure wool, you dramatic child. Of course you _would_ be sensitive to finery. Just… act like you can handle the scrutiny you will be under, at least?”

It was Erik’s turn to roll his eyes. “I don’t understand why we must parade ourselves around like this. I have already conquered Shaw’s army and won his lands. Is that not proof enough of my ability to rule?”

“No,” said Janos, and opened the double doors.

Azazel and Emma stood to attention by the first set of great pillars, and as Janos announced him in a clear, ringing voice, they walked in unison to join him. His three lieutenants followed him, their steps in time with his. Erik held his chin up and marched. This was no more than another battle, one fought and won with words and appearance instead of might and weaponry. He battled with the sneer that wanted to escape as he walked down the long aisle to the throne at the other end of the vast stone hall. He would much rather conduct his rule from a tent in battle.

For a moment his confidence faltered. What good was a man of war in a time of peace? He had been forged in fire, his last memory of good times that of a child, and his knowledge of diplomacy was tinged in distaste. Diplomat was just another term for liar, for people who thought only of their treasuries and cared nothing for the people who starved under their regime.

And now he would have to mould the role to his own liking. He who had once starved beneath the inaction of such rulers as he had now become. He would not let himself be weak as those who turned away from Shaw’s cruelty had been. His crown would be his first signal that he was different. The steel band that circled his brow was sharp and ferocious, the mark of a warrior king, and the bronze markings that swirled within it were ever shifting, displaying his dominion over metal.

He cast his eye around the crowd. This was the first audience of the new King of Genosha. Not only did he have those from his own country come to see him on the throne, come to remind him of their part in his ascent and beg for recognition, but he could also see representatives from Genosha’s neighbours woven throughout the crowd, bearing tribute and insult alike, he was sure.

The first to step forward was Princess Shuri of Wakanda, their vast and powerful neighbour to the east, who had for so many years welcomed refugees from Genosha. They had been the first to enforce sanctions on Shaw’s regime, and the first to offer aid to the rebels when Erik and Emma had led the charge against him. Erik allowed a small smile and what he hoped was a regal nod. Shuri gave a slight smirk in response.

“Greetings, King Erik,” Shuri said, her high voice ringing through the vast hall with what seemed like no effort. “King T’chaka sends his warmest regards and congratulations, and we bring a gift to celebrate your ascension to the throne of Genosha.”

He waved a hand and four red-clad women marched forward in perfect synchronicity, lowering a pallet to the ground and opening the lid of a small chest. Erik’s heart did a flip - it couldn’t be--

“Vibranium,” Shuri said, tilting her chin up. “My brother argued for some time about what gadget would please you best, but if it was me, I would want nothing but raw metal with which to work. I believe a metal worker such as yourself would feel the same way.”

Erik reached out a hand and levitated one of the pieces of raw metal from the chest, twisting it in the air, stretching it out to thin strands, curling them together into tiny cogs and wheels, his metal-sense singing as the vibranium responded more beautifully than anything else he had ever touched. “You do me an honour beyond compare,” he said, and then, before Emma could freeze his backside to the seat, he rose to his feet and bowed to Princess Shuri herself. She laughed and bowed back, her eyes twinkling with mischief, before she retreated, her Dora Milaje stepping back with her.

Azazel leaped forward and took hold of the precious gift, teleporting away with it into the treasury, and then returning in a puff of smoke. Erik seated himself again, and straightened his back before turning to the rest of the crowd.

The allies were first. Lemuria, Perto Dulce, Cimmeria - most of them small countries who had supported him in name only, or sent a token force. Erik inclined his head to the representatives, smiled graciously in response to their gifts. Did not show his boredom. Trinkets or weapons, what they brought was nothing compared to the support they had given in the worst of times. 

Then came those who had stood by while Shaw took children away from their parents, twisted them into sick facsimiles of themselves in an effort to find the perfect weapon. Turned their backs when they cried out to the world to help, and then considered doing the same to their own mutant population, only preferably without the powerful mutant at the helm of their own experimental efforts. Erik could hardly bear to look upon these hypocrites who bowed and scraped, and brought their tribute in hopes that he would not invade them with his army, the weapons Shaw had created bound close in their pain, united in their determination to never allow anyone to experience this again.

The party from Westchester approached, a beautiful, absent-looking woman, and a great beefy man, his black hair slicked back from his face. And standing behind them, a heart-stoppingly beautiful man. Once he had caught sight of him, Erik could barely focus back on any other, his eye drawn back constantly to the tumble of brown curls, the lush red lips, the piercing blue eyes that hid any number of mysteries. Erik knew he shouldn’t keep his gaze on one person, should not show this sort of attention to anyone, but he couldn’t resist this young man. He had never wanted to look upon someone so much!

“Your Majesty,” said Lord Marko, bowing deeply and demanding Erik’s attention against his will. “We come with great joy to this celebration. Our congratulations to you upon your successful coup.”

“Your congratulations are noted, Lord Marko,” Erik said dryly, tearing his eyes away from the beautiful man in the plain white linen robe. “And your joy, as well, considering this court is fully aware of the distaste you expressed to the ‘Mutant rabble’ when we came to your land seeking support.”

 _Erik,_ sighed Emma in his mind. _Do shut up, you vengeful hag!_

Erik ignored her and raised an eyebrow towards the spluttering Lord. “Now, you must understand,” Marko said with a nervous chuckle, his eyes darting around the room. “Westchester is a small country, with much pressure upon us from our many borders. We could not be seen--”

“I do not care,” said Erik, flicking his hand dismissively. “It is in the past. This mutant rabble is now ready to look towards the future.”

“We… we bring gifts!” Marko said desperately. Regaining some of his pomp, he gestured quickly to the side. Guards in ridiculous, ornamented waistcoats clattered forwards, each with one hand clamped around the bicep of a different person.

Erik frowned. “What is the meaning of this?” he demanded. The people in the grip of the guards’ hands seemed to cringe. Even dressed in clean linen shifts, they looked thin, almost emaciated. And each of them wore, around their necks, a heavy metal collar. He heard Azazel hiss behind him.

“They are all mutants,” said Marko. He was starting to sweat, perhaps realising how utterly reprehensible his so-called gift was. “See, every one has a - a gift which one could use, with training… they are all weapons. For your army.”

Erik stood, his ears ringing, every piece of metal vibrating in the room, a rolling hum like thunder rising. “They are people,” he said coldly, the taste of copper sharp on his tongue, as if he had bitten into it without realising. He turned to the terrified mutants, some of them little more than children. “And now, they are _my_ people,” he said through his teeth.

Marko seemed to relax, a sycophantic smile spreading across his face. Erik wanted to tear it from his lips, how dare he? How _dare_ he treat Erik’s people like a trinket?

 _Enough, Erik,_ Emma said sharply. She herself stepped forward. “Please, come with me,” she said, her usually sharp voice softened, almost serene, as she led the white-clad people away, stopping the guards and sending them back to Marko with a gesture.

Erik forced his knees to bend, sitting back down on the throne. He knew his face was like thunder as he turned back to the Westchester delegation, and he allowed himself a glance at the beautiful young man standing in Marko’s shadow. He seemed to be watching the others, almost desperate, as they were led out of the throne room. Erik wondered if he knew any of them.

He should have noticed the fact that he was dressed in white linen as well, the robe more finely decorated than any of the others, high collared and light. But before he had a chance to think on it, Marko had dragged him forward. “This one is for your own personal use, my king,” Marko said, smirking as he gestured to the man. The man nearly stumbled, his blue eyes wide. Had Erik not been watching them so closely already he would have missed the fear, fury, determination that passed through them before Marko tore the white linen robe away from him.

He was naked beneath. The white linen was cast aside, broad hands made an aborted motion to cover himself, then clenched at his side. Erik’s eyes widened as he took in the pale, unblemished skin, the fine muscles, the sparse hair, the collar. The _collar_.

“He is a virgin,” Marko said. “A weak telepath - he will be able to please you in any way you like.” He tangled his fingers in the man’s hair and tugged backwards, pulling him down until he knelt at his feet. “He asked to come,” Marko sneered down at him. “He begged to be given to you, didn’t you, boy?”

“Release him,” Erik snarled. “Azazel, take him out of here.” He stalked down the stairs from the dais until he loomed over Lord Marko. “How dare you?” he snarled. “How dare you come here, bringing me slaves of my own people?” 

He looked out over the crowd. “Too long we have cringed in the shadows of humans,” Erik said, his voice almost a war cry, a roar. “We have hidden in the shadows, begged crumbs from their tables - no longer! Genosha shall be your home, all of you. Any mutant who so wishes to leave the chains of their oppressors, you will be welcomed. Not as weapons, but as my people. Not as slaves to the land of your birth, but as free men - we may be small when compared to the might of Wakanda, but our welcome will be as warm as theirs has been to us.” He bowed once more to Princess Shuri, who bowed back, her usual cheeky smile absent, eyes sharp as she glared at Marko. “Mutants of the world. You will all be welcome in Genosha.”

The cheers rang up, ragged and fierce. Marko trembled before Erik, stumbling back beside his wife as Erik turned his furious glare upon him.

***

“Well, your Majesty,” Emma sighed, as Erik shrugged the itchy woolen cloak from his shoulders in the private audience chamber. “You’ve made life rather more difficult for our new country than it really had to be.”

“I don’t care, Emma,” he snarled. “Did you see what that bastard did? Weapons and a bed slave? Is this truly what they all think of me? That I am just a copy of… of _him_?”

Janos picked the cape up from the floor, tutting over the dust. “Of course that’s what they think,” he said, as Emma shrugged with a sad smile. “They can only imagine minds that work like their own. Marko is only giving you what he would want in your place.”

Emma smirked. “You see? Who even needs a telepath when you have Janos?”

“Our ranks have swollen by twelve already,” Azazel said, appearing in the room and taking the cape from Janos, throwing it over the back of Erik’s chair. “Oh, do not be so offended, love,” he said when Janos frowned. “See, I too have a cape. You may fuss over me.”

Janos rolled his eyes, but set about straightening Azazel’s robes instead.

“The princess is coming,” Emma said, and without waiting for Erik’s orders, she opened the doors. “Your majesty.”

Shuri smiled at Emma, then around the room. “Well,” she said. “That was the most fun I have ever had on a diplomatic mission. I knew Genosha would be more entertaining with you at the helm, Erik.”

“Entertaining!” he spluttered.

“Yes, yes, I know,” she said, waving a hand at him. “Lord Marko is a disgusting creature, humans are pathetic, blah, blah, blah.”

Erik frowned and looked down. “I don’t think all humans are pathetic,” he mumbled.

“That is so sweet,” she laughed. “I’m so glad. Now, I see that you have already made good on your offer to accept any mutants as Genoshan nationals. Wakanda has a large mutant population of our own, if you are serious about this, I shall return with the news. Three of my Dora Milaje are actually mutants, and while two have chosen to remain in Wakanda, the third, Ororo Munroe, has expressed an interest in spending some time here. She was a refugee to Wakanda herself, from one of our neighbours, and she feels an affinity for those displaced. Please do not be too nice to her - I would really quite like her back.”

Erik smiled and bent to embrace the tiny princess. “I cannot imagine anyone wanting to leave Wakanda, except to remind themselves of what they are missing at home,” he said, planting his hands on her shoulders to look at her. “Please express my gratitude to your father and brother - without your family and your people, Genosha would still be floundering under Shaw’s rule. My determination to accept any mutant refugee without question is but a shadow of the kindness you show to those who beg help at your borders.”

Shuri grinned at Emma. “You are teaching him well,” she said. “Goodbye, Erik. And good luck - it looks like you’re going to need it.”

Janos sighed as she left. “Well, that’s the end of that,” he said. “Don’t think that means you can return to wearing your battle fatigues. A king must look his best for his own people as well as others.”

“Especially a king who keeps on inviting more people to join,” Emma said dryly. “You do realise we only have a small country, and cannot possibly feed this many refugees?”

Erik waved her concerns away, pretending that they did not plague him too. “We can do no less,” he said. “Not after that display by Westchester.”

“Speaking of which,” Azazel said, brushing his claws through Janos’ hair. “The new ones - the so-called weapons from Westchester, have been housed in the barracks. There was nowhere better to put them at such short notice. Some of them have even refused to remove their collars.”

“What?” Erik demanded.

Emma sighed. “They’ve been brainwashed, sugar,” she said sadly. “If they’ve been treated like beasts, and taught they are only safe while not mutant, can you blame them?”

Erik closed his eyes and pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose. “What about the other one? The…”

“The bed-slave?” Emma said sardonically.

Erik shuddered. “Yes, him.”

Azazel shrugged. “I put him in your bedroom.”

“You _what?_ ”


	2. Imitate the Sun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles tries to work out how to make the best of his situation...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for some second hand embarrassment! And misunderstandings galore! Erik is just so deeply embarrassed about this whole situation, he's acting even more of a grumpy bastard than usual.
> 
> Also the whole situation is pretty triggering to him.

_Yet herein will I imitate the sun,_

Charles’ hands fluttered to the bare skin around his neck. The teleporter who had brought him here had apologised as he removed the collar, told him to choose whatever he wanted from the king’s wardrobe, then disappeared, the worry in his mind obvious even to someone without Charles’ gift.

He took a breath and let it out slowly, counting to ten as he emptied his lungs. He had survived. He had been stripped naked in front of the entire world, stripped of his gift, his birthright, his family and his dignity, and he had survived. He would survive again. He had to.

He set his jaw and let his telepathy spread throughout the castle, trying to seek out his sister and all his friends. He hadn’t realised how it would feel to watch them taken away like prisoners, into the clutches of an unknown world. 

He tried to make sense of the king’s words. They are my people. What had he meant? He bit his lip. He was working with incomplete information, the world without his telepathy like a veiled glimpse of a picture. Erik had claimed Charles’ people, he’d essentially claimed Charles as well - what he meant to do with them was a mystery.

It didn’t matter, Charles thought firmly. The teleporter who had brought him here had removed his collar immediately, so at least he had his powers back. Nobody could hurt him. He would insinuate himself here, find out what King Erik’s plans were for his people, and he would keep them safe. If necessary, Charles would kill him. The thought was horrifying, but Charles knew he was… at least theoretically capable of it. And he would, no matter what Raven thought of him - he spoke of peace, but he was not completely naive.

Heavy footsteps and raised voices down the corridor startled Charles, his heart thumping hard in his chest. He scrambled back onto the bed, still naked, and planted himself in the very centre. How was one supposed to look seductive? He tried sitting, knees bent. Ridiculous. He stretched out on the bed, tried to writhe a little. Gods, he must look like an utter idiot, squirming about like a pale worm on a patch of damp earth. He bit his lip and considered diving under the covers, acting coy, what would Erik prefer? He hated how useless he had been in the assembly hall without his telepathy. He hated that his stepfather had caught him asleep and shackled him with that collar before he could get to Genosha under his own steam.

When the door slammed open Charles sat up, his heart pounding. So much for looking seductive, he just looked like a scared rabbit.

The king froze in the doorway, his mind entirely blank to Charles’ senses. Behind him stood the teleporter who had brought Charles to Erik’s quarters earlier. Charles looked from one to the other, and pulled the sheets over his lap.

Erik grimaced, then turned to glare at the teleporter, and slammed the door in his face. He walked past the bed. Charles reached out tentatively with his telepathy, trying to find a gap in the king’s powerful shields, but it seemed as if the Lady Frost had trained him too well. Charles bit his lip and rolled onto his front, letting the sheets slide off him. He hoped he didn’t look too pale and idiotic. He glanced up at Erik, trying to make his mouth pouty, his eyes a little bigger.

“What are you doing?” the king asked sharply.

Charles frowned. “Whatever may please you, my lord?”

“Well… stop it.”

He walked back across the room, his head hanging between tense shoulders, a cloud of discomfort tangible even through the powerful shields. Charles scrambled to his feet and trotted after him, trying not to show his embarrassment at how utterly naked he was. “I have been… I have been given to you, my Lord,” he said. “I can--”

Erik stopped and turned very suddenly, and Charles bumped into him with a grunt. He looked up the extra few inches into the fierce warrior king’s face and tensed. 

“Is this kind of depravity to be expected from Westchester?” Erik growled. “Is this how your people behave? Throwing themselves at the feet of anyone with power? That’s it, isn’t it? They said you’d begged for this, were you trying to put yourself above the others in your party? Expecting them to go off to do hard labour, so you thought you’d find yourself a place in my bed?”

Charles blinked at him, and tried to look sweet and innocent, and not at all like he was talking himself out of causing the man’s pain receptors to fire off in fantastical patterns across his whole body.

“You disgust me,” Erik snapped. “Get out - go on, get out of here!” He shoved him across the room, fingers tight around his bicep, and pushed him out of the door. Charles stumbled and fell onto his arse with a grunt. Before he could speak, a great woolen cloak was thrown over him.

The door slammed. Well, that hadn’t gone well.

Charles sighed and let his head thud against the wall. The stone was chilly against his back, he could feel goosebumps scatter themselves down his arms, and he wrapped himself in the cloak. He considered his options carefully.

He could leave. He could almost certainly sneak through the palace unnoticed, seek out his people and free them. But then where would they go? Wakanda had their arms open to mutants from all over the world, but they were on the eastern side of the ocean, and while Wakandan technology was exceptional, Charles couldn’t guarantee he could get everyone safely to the continent.

He could always destroy Erik, he thought again. It would be a struggle to break through the impressive defences and tear the man’s mind apart, but Charles had no doubt he could do it. But that would mean war between Westchester and Genosha (for no doubt the crime would be traced back to him), and while the ruling family may have cast him aside, he was not so quick to cast away his own people. On top of that, Genosha was not a rich country. They had dragged themselves through a tyranny and mutants all over the country were at once tending their deep wounds, and hoping for a brighter future.

There was the possibility that Erik, as rude as he was, might at least be a good leader. Charles did not have enough information to make such far reaching decisions yet. He would learn more about this new king, and if Erik was anywhere near as bad as Shaw, well, then Charles would just have to be close enough to take him down.

***

Charles was drifting off when he heard footsteps down the corridor. He reached out with his telepathy to find kind thoughts, mild irritation, concentration. When the man rounded the corner, Charles remained sitting against the wall, rubbing his eyes and looking up at him.

“Hey, there,” the man said, cocking his head on one side. “What are you doing on the cold floor?”

“I’m afraid I’ve been thrown out,” he said with a sheepish smile.

The man frowned even more. “You’re that poor boy Westchester stripped in front of everyone, aren’t you?” He glanced at the king’s door and his frown deepened, currents of indignation and a hint of anger swirling through his surface thoughts. He turned and transferred the tray he was carrying to just one hand, which swelled as he did it, the muscles growing to support the weight. He held his other hand out to Charles. “The name’s Darwin,” he said. “Come on, now, you’ll catch your death of cold like that.”

Charles tore his eyes away from the fantastic use of Darwin’s mutation, grabbed his hand and scrambled up, stretching his back out and tugging the cloak tighter around himself. “Charles,” he said with a smile.

Darwin tutted. “He didn’t even give you your clothes back?”

Charles shrugged, and Darwin hammered on the king’s door. “Yes?” came the gruff voice.

Darwin pushed the door open and beckoned to Charles with his head. Charles slipped in after him, slightly at a loss. Erik looked up as Darwin thumped the tray down on a desk covered with maps and notes.

“Janos sent me up with some food,” Darwin said. 

Erik’s eyes went to Charles, and he frowned deeply. “What are you still doing here?”

“I found him sitting outside your door,” Darwin said, crossing his arms. “If I may speak freely, I didn’t pledge my sword to the kind of man who would use someone so casually and then throw him outside with no clothes.”

“What?” Erik yelped, his voice almost a squeak. “I didn’t— that’s not at all what happened! Darwin, you know I would never do such a thing.”

“I certainly thought you wouldn’t, but here he is.”

“Are you calling me a liar, Munoz?” Erik said.

Charles heart thumped in his chest. He had no intention of getting someone so thoughtful into trouble with his king - for all he knew Erik could be the kind of man to put someone to death for such treason. “Please, my Lord, it’s my fault,” he said quickly, bowing deeply. He held his powers at the ready, hovering around Erik’s mind, ready to dive and battle his way through his shields and hold him still for Darwin to escape. “I should have—“

“Should have what? Looked less like a discarded bed slave outside of the king’s door?” Darwin said, amusement tingeing his thoughts.

Charles could very well have done that. He could have made himself disappear entirely, cut himself out from Darwin’s perception. He hadn’t, though. He had allowed himself to appear, played on Darwin’s sympathy, and if he wasn’t careful, he would be getting someone into trouble with his arrogance.

“I had expected him to join his countrymen,” said the king, somewhat petulantly. 

Darwin grinned, and Charles glanced between them, still tense. “And how was he to find his countrymen, Erik?” Darwin asked. “Did he know where they were?”

Erik glared at Darwin, then dropped his head in his hand. “Fine! Fine. He can stay here tonight - on the daybed, you hear me?” he snapped at Charles.

Darwin patted Erik on the shoulder with a chuckle. “I’ll get you some food,” he said to Charles.

“Don’t bother,” Erik said. “I’m not hungry, he’ll have mine.”

“Be quiet, my king, and eat your dinner.”

Charles tensed up again, but all Erik did was throw a metal bolt towards Darwin, flicking him on the head again and again with his powers. “Stop it!” Darwin grumbled, but Charles could feel the laughter in his mind. “You are such a petulant baby!”

Erik grinned at Darwin, showing all his teeth, and pulled the bolt through the air back to his hand. Darwin shook his head with a fond smile and left.


	3. The Base, Contagious Clouds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's so short guys! I just needed to get Erik's thoughts in here!

_Who doth permit the base contagious clouds  
To smother up his beauty from the world,_

Now the man was covered up, Erik felt like he could look at him again. “What’s your name?” he asked gruffly.

“Charles,” he said. 

He gathered the itchy cloak around himself, and Erik frowned to see the slight shiver. “Bloody Azazel,” he muttered. “When I told him to take you out of the throne room, I was hoping he’d know to put some clothes on you. And not put you in my bedroom.”

“Why are you surprised, my lord?” Charles said, lowering himself to the daybed. “I was given to you as a bed slave, should I not be placed in your bedroom?”

Erik glared at him. “I do not _want_ a bed slave. I do not want slaves at all! I did not stage a revolution against a tyrant king only to become one myself! Slavery as a concept is barbaric, and I shall not have it.”

“Well, if you would pardon me for saying so, my lord, but it is rather up to you to make that clear, nationally and internationally,” Charles said. 

Erik slapped his knife down on the table. “And what would you know about international policy?”

“What do you know about it?” Charles asked tartly. “You have been the king for all of two weeks, and before that, you were a general.” He leaned forwards, his blue eyes lighting up in a distressingly distracting way. “Your military strategy is sound, but--”

Erik stood, the tension of the day returning to sweep over his shoulders, up his neck and into his head. “I am not going to be lectured at by a child who tries to whore himself out to me. Go to sleep, and tomorrow… try to find something useful to do, yes?”

He would have left the room entirely, only he wasn’t prepared to leave his notes and draft treaties alone with anyone he didn’t trust, even with, essentially, a concubine. Instead, he pulled his ridiculous embroidered shirt over his head and threw it to one side, and crawled under the blankets of his bed, too exposed by another set of eyes to comfortably undress.

For a moment the room was wound tight with tension. Then he heard a sigh, and shifting of movement, and nothing but soft, regular breaths. Erik lay awake for a long time, the events of the day marching past his eyes. 

He frowned and pressed his eyes shut as he recalled how he’d thrown Charles out of the door. He regretted every interaction he’d had with the man. Every word exchanged with him had been tinged with first his immediate attraction, and then by the disgusting position he’d been put in, and finally, most disappointingly, by the fact that this otherwise beautiful, captivating person, seemed not to think there was anything wrong with the position he was in.

He put the pillow over his head and tried to press the thoughts out before they became memories. Of other kings and their entitlement. Of being the favourite, and all that meant, and how others looked at said favourite and assumed an easy life. Of humiliation and hatred and promising, inside his head, that he would do anything to destroy the man who’d killed his mother and taken everything from him.

***

Erik woke with the dawn, his head pounding, his eyes dry with lack of sleep. He sat up and rubbed his temples, sighing, and opened his shields to Emma's psychic tapping.

 _Morning, sunshine,_ she said. _Someone need a pain suppressant today?_

 _If you take this headache I will buy you those kidskin gloves I saw you lusting over in the market the other day,_ he replied.

She sent a chill, the cool of a flustered reprimand. _I wasn't lusting over them. I was thinking how lovely they'd look on... someone else._

 _Ah, yes,_ someone. _A human, no doubt? A very specific human, with lovely brown hair and a rebellious streak to rival your own? A certain rebellion leader--_

_If you want to keep your headache, keep going, sugar, I can afford those gloves by myself._

Erik laughed, and kept the rest of his teasing to himself, sighing in relief as Emma's power flooded through his mind, taking the headache with it, or blocking off the pain receptors, whatever it was she actually did.

 _See you in a minute,_ Emma said, and he felt the cold tendrils of her power slipping away from him, leaving a shiver behind. Erik pushed himself out of bed and dressed, glancing over at the man on the daybed.

In sleep he was just as beautiful as awake, and Erik sighed, rubbing his forehead. He couldn't allow himself to think like this about someone who was so completely in his power. He would have to talk to Janos about the creation of laws, because this could not happen again.

He slumped over the windowsill and stared down at the city below, and at the vast plains of Genosha beyond. What the hell did he think he was doing? Erik was a general, a warrior, he had no idea how to govern. Charles was right - he knew nothing of international policy, and he had never wanted to learn. His mind went back to those first chaotic moments after Shaw had fallen, his lifeless body bleeding on the ground in front of Erik and Emma on the palace steps.

"God save the King!" The cheer had risen, started by he didn't know who, and had been taken up by all the other grief-stricken, exhausted, terrified people behind him. They had been so desperate, so relieved at the death of the tyrant that they had been willing to put their faith in the man who'd only just managed to crawl out from beneath him. 

"Accept it," Emma had insisted afterwards, her mind clear and sure. "They need stability, Erik, they need a figurehead. They need a saviour."

"We'll be here with you," Azazel agreed, his hand on Janos' shoulder. "We are by your side, always."

"But... but I'm just a--"

Erik glanced over at Charles again. He'd been Charles. He'd been where Charles was, but he'd never asked for it. He'd begged for it to end, while Charles had asked to be here, and the thought of being like Shaw made Erik sick.

He pushed his fingers through his hair, tugging on the strands to ground himself. It was over. He was free, and he would do whatever it took to make sure his people were free as well. 

Charles shifted in his sleep, a frown deepening between his brows, his head tossing from side to side as if he dreamed ill. The cloak slipped sideways, and Erik hovered over him to pull it back up, covering him against the morning chill. Charles flinched, then relaxed.

Charles was one of his people, Erik supposed. He had his own past, his own demons - all mutants did in this world. Erik wasn't going to pick and choose which of his people was worthy of freedom and succor, so he would fight to keep Charles safe too. Perhaps once he found a role in Genosha he would leave Erik alone.


	4. When He Please Again to be Himself

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles meets Hank, and is finally reunited with Raven.

__

_That, when he please again to be himself,_

Charles had expected to wake whenever the king did, but by the time he stretched and tumbled off the daybed to land with a grunt on the thick carpet, he was alone in the royal chambers, and the sun was high in the sky.

A quick glance around showed a lot of missing paperwork from the desk (which Charles was pleased about - he didn’t mind being underestimated, but he also didn’t want this new king to be a complete idiot), and a modest stack of clothing. Relieved, he tugged the sensible working clothes on and stood, brushing his hair back from his face with his fingers, and wincing at the tangles. 

The woolen cloak, he picked up off the floor. It was beautifully made, rich and heavy in his hands, and if he held it up to his face he could smell something warm and comforting, like spiced oils.

He frowned and draped the cloak over the back of a chair. Comforting? He had no time or place to be thinking about comfort, or indeed to be wondering whether the haughty, snappish king had rubbed the spiced oil into his hair or his skin.

 _’Find something useful to do,’_ the king had said. Charles knew exactly what to do.

Charles closed his eyes and touched his fingers to his temple, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly as his telepathy reached out into Genosha. He felt the sparkling minds of the castle’s inhabitants, then out into the city beyond, busy thoughts firing and fading as he moved from mind to mind. 

At last he caught hold of Raven’s mind. _Charles?_ she asked immediately, her mind a whirl of concern, worry, fear. 

He tried to block it out, to respect her wishes for privacy as far as possible, but he was sure she’d forgive him. _Raven!_ he said. _Where are you? Are you all safe? Are you well?_

_Yes, we’re all together - they took off our collars straight away… Charles, are you…_

_I’m fine, Raven,_ he said quickly, his heart warming as he heard her concern for him so clearly. _It seems as though this king is… nothing like the old._

_Oh, thank God! Look… Charles, can you see where we are? Can you escape?_

_Yes, I’m free to move around - I’ll find you as soon as I can!_

He left her mind with a fond brush against her senses, a kiss to the cheek. He stood, and was reaching out for the door when it opened, smacking into his face.

“Oh, my God, I’m so sorry,” Charles heard around the throbbing pain as he pressed his hands to his head, trying to stop himself from throwing up. Large hands gripped him by the elbows and guided him over to a seat. “If you… could you move your hands? Let me see? I have some medical experience, I can… yes, thank you.”

Charles blinked up at a face of blue fur and fangs and concerned yellow eyes. The man pushed his hair up out of his face, checked his pupil reactions with a lighted match moved in front of his face, then scuttled into the bathroom, returning with a dripping wet hand towel. “Put this on the bruise. I’m afraid there’ll be a bit of a lump there before long. I really am very sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Charles said with a smile. “It was an accident, I know.”

“I’m Hank McCoy,” he said, holding out a blue paw.

“Charles Xavier,” he said. “Are you the resident doctor here, then?”

Hank’s face dropped. “I’m… no, I’m just a soldier,” he said. “I did have a little training in the sciences and medicine, but then… well…” He gestured to his face. “A little experiment that went wrong… I wasn’t allowed to continue.”

Charles frowned. “Really? That’s terrible!”

“Oh, no, it’s not that bad - I blend in much better in Genosha than I did in Latveria. There just hasn’t been much opportunity here for science… maybe now the war’s over.” He shook his head. “But I’m monopolising you! I was sent by Darwin to bring you to your countrymen.”

Charles’ head snapped up, and he winced. “Raven? Please, could you take me there now?”

Hank smiled and held out his hand, tugging Charles to his feet - in fact, almost throwing him over his shoulder with his strength. Charles laughed. “Sorry,” Hank said, ducking his head. “I’m still terribly clumsy.”

“You just need some practice,” Charles said, his mind already running through some of the training he used to lead in Westchester before Lord Marko arrived, wheedling his way through the council and into his drunken, grieving mother’s bedroom. “A couple of my friends have trouble controlling their powers. We were working on some techniques… well, a while ago. I wonder if you’d like to join us?”

Hank tilted his head to one side. “What powers do they have?” he asked.

As Hank led him through the palace, Charles described Alex, Scott and Sean’s powers, the difficulties they had, the hopes they had for developing control. Hank joined in with some incredibly inspired suggestions for using their powers in unexpected ways - Charles almost fell over when Hank postulated that Sean could, with the correct frequency and projection, maybe fly.

He had started describing Raven’s power, his pride evident as he explained how flawless her shifting was, how she not only mimicked a face and voice, but the mannerisms and body language of her targets, when they arrived at the great doors that lead out to the city. Charles stopped, a smile slowly forming on his face as he got his first proper look at Genosha.

They had arrived in Westchester’s draped carriages, and with Charles trapped in the royal box along with his mother and Marko, he hadn’t even been able to sneak a peek at the great plains. Now, the sun high in the sky and blazing down from a bright blue sky, he had what seemed like the entire world laid out in front of him.

The palace towered behind him, curling eaves of bright tile framing her carved and painted walls like a dancer’s skirts. Fantastical beasts of red wood guarded each point of the roof, which was peaked with a golden spire. It was built on a raised stone platform, looking out over the small city, which was mostly made of low brick houses that huddled together against the glacial wind that whipped across the plains. Charles was desperately glad of the thick, long-sleeved tunic he’d tied over his trousers - even Westchester’s dull, numbing cold could not have prepared him for the biting wind here, and it was only autumn yet. 

The city was ringed by great, thick walls, topped at intervals by white-painted bell-like structures, spires that pierced the ubiquity of the blue horizon. But behind those, the plains spread into infinity itself, great yellow-green rolling steppes that made way at last to distant, snow-capped mountains. Here and there, round white tents spotted the landscape, and tiny figures on sturdy ponies moved between them. 

Charles drank in the sight, turning slowly in wonder. Hank smiled at him, and even a guard smirked without turning away from his watch over the city. Charles followed Hank down the steps and into the city itself, the wind falling as they dropped below the level of the city walls. Traders called across the marketplace, rich, warm smells assaulted his nose from every side, and he slowed as they passed a group of children gathered around a feather-cloaked man who held a huge eagle on his outstretched glove. 

So surrounded was he by the delight of the foreign land that it took him a moment to realise that the children - in fact, all of the city’s inhabitants - seemed to be mutants of some sort. The man with the eagle wasn’t dressed in feathers, they were his own wings. One of the children was talking to the eagle and nodding as if she understood its reply. Another child was barely visible with how fast he could move, and a young woman walked straight through a building without breaking a stride.

“It’s this way,” Hank said, and Charles startled, quickly rushing to catch up. “We didn’t know where else to keep them, so they’re in the barracks for now, but that doesn’t mean they have to be in the army.”

“Thank you, Hank,” Charles started, but as he spoke, the door opened and he fell back against the wall with a grunt.

“Where have you _been_ ” demanded his armful of Raven. “I was so worried about you, I thought you’d been caught, and… oh. Hello.”

She climbed down off Charles and looked up at Hank, pushing her hair back into place awkwardly, her scales fluttering. Charles laughed. “Raven, this is Hank McCoy. He led me to you. Hank, this is my - well, basically my sister, Raven Darkholme. I’m so sorry I took so long.”

“What happened to your face?” she demanded, cupping his jaw as she caught sight of the bruise.

Charles winced. “Oh, dear. Is it very obvious?”

“Did _he_ do this to you?” she hissed. “If he did I’ll--”

“Oh, no, really, you don’t have to worry about that,” Charles said quickly, glancing at Hank and hoping any suggestions of treason had gone unnoticed. “It was an accident.”

“It was my fault,” Hank said, hanging his head. “I opened the door onto him.”

She looked suspiciously from one to the other. “An accident?”

“I promise,” Charles said, holding both her hands. 

“And the king… last night…”

He smiled. “Nothing happened. The king doesn’t approve, apparently.”

“Oh, thank God, Charles,” she almost sobbed, hugging him tight once again. “I can’t tell you how worried I was, and even though Janos - he’s one of the generals who came to talk to us this morning - said that the king wouldn’t hurt you, I didn’t… I couldn’t help thinking the worst.”

“I’m sorry, darling,” he said, hugging her back. “I should have tried to reach out to you earlier. How have you all been?”

“Fine,” she sighed. “Alex and Scott won’t take the collars off. I don’t know what happened to them in the last eight months when you weren’t allowed to work with them, but Alex is certain that he’ll go off the moment he has access to his powers again and Scott… he says he can’t control his powers at all anymore,” she sighed. “He says the beams are on any time his eyes are open.”

Charles squeezed his eyes shut and hung his head. “I should have put a stop to Kurt and Cain sooner,” he sighed. “I was so sure I could reason with them, I should have known… I’m sorry.”

She smiled, and didn’t tell him it wasn’t his fault, which he appreciated. “Come on,” she said. “Let’s go see the boys.”


	5. He May Be More Wondered At

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's late guys! I've been teaching a practical course!

_Being wanted, he may be more wondered at_

The boys stood up when he entered the room, all of them looking warily at Hank, standing in silence in front of their bunks. Charles had to swallow down a cry when he saw Scott’s face, his eyes bandaged, his head tilted downwards, turning at every movement he could hear to track the potential threat across the room.

“Boys,” he said hoarsely. “I’m so, so sorry.”

“Charles,” said Scott, looking up with a smile. Charles walked closer and put his hand on Scott’s shoulder, sending a mental signal a little like a nudge before he touched him so he wouldn’t startle. To his surprise, Scott threw his arms around him and hugged him tight. Charles closed his eyes and squeezed him back.

“Is everything OK?” Alex asked, looking intently at him. _Has this guy hurt you? Cause I can turn this collar off if necessary._

Charles turned and pulled Alex towards him as well, hugging him briefly, as long as the older boy’s tough demeanour would allow. Sean was next, slapping him on the back. “It’s fine,” he assured them, holding Alex and Sean’s gaze firmly.

“Would you tell us if it wasn’t?” Sean asked, his sleepy eyes sad. 

Charles hesitated. “It really _is_ fine,” he promised. “Nothing’s happened. I’ve been told to go and make myself useful, so… well, I’m not sure how I can help out around here, really, but I’m sure I’ll work something out.” 

He smiled to cover up his nerves. He was a weak, pampered prince, good at diplomacy and mind-reading, and not much else. He didn’t imagine he could be of much use to anyone, and if he wasn’t useful, who knew what would happen? He comforted himself with the thought that at least Raven and the boys were strong and would surely make themselves invaluable before long.

“Do you think you’ve got enough time to work with us a bit?” Alex asked. “I…” he trailed off and swallowed hard. “Everything you taught us… I think we’re going to have to start from the beginning. I’m sorry.”

Alex’s mind flickered with memories of cruelty, verbal abuse, serums to set him off at all hours, and Charles’ eyes filled with tears. He clutched at Alex’s hand. “Oh, my poor boy, _I’m_ the one who’s sorry. I should have found a way to get you out of there.”

“You couldn’t get away either,” Raven said softly. “I saw how they collared you.”

Charles bowed his head. “I was naive. I should have kept you safe, and I didn’t. I will now, though, I swear. I won’t let myself fall into that same trap again - and yes, I’ll make sure I train you every day, no matter what else they find for us to do. In fact, why don’t we go now?”

Scott grinned up, then frowned. “I can’t control it at all now,” he said. “I don’t even want to take the blindfold off _with_ the suppressant collar, I just… it’s bad, Charles.”

Charles bit his lip. “Then we need somewhere with a lot of space.” He glanced at Hank thoughtfully. “I don’t suppose you know of somewhere we could use?”

Hank laughed. “You saw the view - one thing Genosha has in abundance is space.”

***

Hank was right - beyond the city walls, the wind seemed to blow straight through Charles’ skin, sending up goosebumps, but making him smile in breathless wonder. He laughed. “It’s ridiculous, but I think I might have to ask for something less spacious - if we let one of Alex’s plasma beams loose who knows where it might end up?”

Raven grinned, baring her teeth. “Perhaps it’ll go all the way to Westchester.”

Charles looked reproachfully at her, but he couldn’t stop himself from smiling, just a little. Hank tapped his chin. “There’s a small hill on the other side of the city gates - if you fire towards that, you’ll be able to see if the way is clear or not, and the beams won’t go out of sight.”

“Perfect,” Charles smiled. “Are you sure it’s acceptable for us to leave the city, though?”

“Of course,” Hank said, cocking his head on one side. “Everyone’s free to leave the city!”

Charles hoped he was right. The King had, after all, said that slavery was barbaric, but there were other ways to hold a person under control, and he didn’t want to appear to be trying to escape. But looking at Scott’s relief at being out in the open air again, and feeling Alex’s determination to try something new, he couldn’t bring himself to take them back inside. “Lead on, then,” he said, and gestured at Hank.

Rather than lead them around the perimeter of the city, Hank led them back through the streets and out a much narrower set of gates in the shade of a small hill. The wind was softer here in the shelter of such vast structures, and Charles was glad of it, even though his clothes were thick and warm. “Well, then,” he said. “Scott, would you like to show us what we have to deal with?”

Scott bit his lip. “Are… are you sure? It’s not good.”

Charles touched his fingertips to his temple, scanning ahead for any signs of life. “There’s nobody in front of us for at least a mile. The most you can do is blast a hole in the side of a hill.”

Scott took a deep breath. “OK, then,” he said. 

Gently, Charles unwound the bandage from his eyes. “First of all, let’s see if the collar works. It would be good to at least allow you some sight.”

Gingerly, Scott opened his eyes, one at a time. He blinked. “Nothing’s happening,” he said, a smile stretching across his face. He glanced, hesitantly, at Alex, and then turned to face him full on. “I can see again!”

“That’s great, Scott!” Alex said, slapping him on the shoulder. 

Charles could taste Alex’s guilt in his mind, hearing how he’d told Scott to keep the bandage on this whole time, when it would have been safe after all. “It was the right thing to do,” he said aloud. “When investigating things like this, it’s always best to be safe than sorry. Now, if you’re ready, let’s see what happens when we turn the collar off.”

Scott breathed deeply, closed his eyes tightly again, and nodded. “I’m ready.”

Charles squeezed his shoulder. “Calm your mind,” he said, offering mental waves of peace. When he could feel Scott relaxing, he flicked the switch at the base of Scott’s neck. “Now. Open your eyes.”

“If you’re sure…?”

“Absolutely.” He was absolutely not sure. He never was. 

Scott opened his eyes and a steady red beam howled from his eyes, crackling and spitting at the edges, tearing into the hill in a catastrophe of plasma and boiling dirt. For a moment Charles’ entire being was nothing but noise and light and fear, and then suddenly, it was gone.

“Good,” Charles said, nodding and trying to steady his breathing. At the city walls, a group of people had gathered to watch and were cheering, delighted with the destructive spectacle that had… good God, had torn a crater in the side of the hill. “Good, that’s… yes, that’s just fine, Scott, nothing to worry about at all.” He cleared his throat. “Yes.”

“I told you it was bad.”

“Nonsense,” he said, finally getting himself under control again. “Your power is incredible, Scott. We just need to find a different way of working around it.”

“I wonder if we could find some sort of visor that minimises the intensity of the beam,” Hank said behind them, his voice lighting up with the same cautious excitement Charles had seen from him during their discussions on the way to the stables. “One of the materials I was studying when I first hoped to become a scientist by trade was a stone that seemed to absorb certain forms of light. If we could slice it thinly enough, perhaps we’d find a way to let light into Scott’s eyes without letting the beams out.”

“You think you could do that?” Alex said, hope swelling around him.

“I mean… I could try. I don’t know if we’ve got very much pink quartz already gathered, but it’s not hard to come by.” His face fell. “Though I doubt I would be allowed access to the kind of equipment I would need.”

Charles bit his lip and considered. “Let’s see what we can do with that. For now, though… Alex, if you will?”

Alex kept his intense stare on Hank for a moment longer, either willing him or trying to intimidate him into somehow magically overcoming all his limitations. He walked forward to take Scott’s place, thumping his little brother on the back affectionately, murmuring reassurance as they crossed paths. He stood next to Charles and glanced at him. “OK… remember, I said I lost my ability to control it, so… don’t be too mad, will you?”

“I won’t be mad at all,” Charles said sadly. “It wasn’t your fault - none of this was.”

Alex cleared his throat and clenched his fists and jaw. “Right. Ready.”

Charles flicked off the switch. Alex took a deep breath, then hesitated and gently pushed Charles a pace or two backwards. Charles noticed Hank shifting forward, trying to get a better view of Alex as he focused, breathed deep, and then let loose two wild, curling arcs of power, vast rings of plasma that hummed and rang out like beaten metal.

Charles had thrown himself to the ground, dragging Scott and Raven with him. He looked up, removing his hands from over their heads, and glanced around. Hank was pushing himself to his feet, coughing, and running over towards one of the blazing paths burned into the grass. “Amazing!” he said, and coughed again. “That’s fantastic. You can really see the relatedness between your two mutations - I wonder if we could create some sort of focusing system for your plasma beams too!”

Charles glanced over at Raven, who was pulling Sean to his feet, and grinned.


	6. Through the Foul and Ugly Mist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Idiot boys are idiots.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this is late guys! I forgot on Monday and then had a really difficult day yesterday... hopefully we'll be back on track now! However I'm currently buried in writing a Cyrano De Bergerac fix it fic (Dammit McAvoy, how dare you be so good at your job as to inspire me?? What is my life? I'm writing theatre fanfic!)

__

_By breaking through the foul and ugly mist  
Of vapors that did seem to strangle him._

Erik paused as he saw the crowd gathered by the hill to the north-west of the city gates. It seemed like half the marketplace had emptied and there was… someone levitating up into the air? Erik shook his head and rode his horse down the slope behind the city, a frown deepening between his brows. “What’s going on here?” he snapped

The crowd parted. The young red-headed girl with her hands held out, her telekinesis holding Charles in midair startled, and with a shout, Charles fell to the ground.

Erik was off his horse in a moment, rushing over to the man before he could get himself under control. Charles chuckled and sat up, blinking those disgustingly blue eyes at him. Erik scowled to see he already had a terrible bruise over half of his face! “What do you think you’re doing?”

“He was just teaching us, your Majesty,” called Bobby. “He says we can get more control over our powers by trying to do really small things - look, I—“

“And getting Jean to float him around like an imbecile is fine control… how?” he sneered. Charles bit his lip and looked worried, which only served to infuriate Erik more, and he hauled him to his feet by his jacket. “Get _up,_ for God’s sake.”

“She was going to try to control his mind as well as holding him up with her telekinesis, honestly, sir, he wasn’t just messing around,” Nina called. “It was meant to be a challenge for her.”

Erik grit his teeth to stop himself from shouting at the little girl. Instead he glared down at Charles. “Right. You… on the horse.”

“Charles!” A young woman with blue scales stepped forward, and one of Erik’s soldiers put his hand on her elbow to hold her back. 

Beside him, Charles shook his head at her, and Erik remembered the forlorn group of mutants Westchester had ‘gifted’ him. He shook Charles’ shoulder roughly. “As you have friends here, perhaps you will think more carefully than to put yourself into such a foolish position! Now, get on the damn horse!”

Charles paled, his eyes widening, and scrambled onto the horse. Erik mounted behind him, slightly mollified. He was obviously one of those simple-minded fools who thought nothing of his own safety, and needed a harsh reminder or two to realise that people cared about his wellbeing.

The ride back to the city was silent, Charles tense in front of Erik. He was wearing one of Erik’s tunics, he noticed approvingly. At least he’d had the sense to dress warmly. There was something about seeing him in Erik’s own soft, old clothes that made Erik feel like he’d been the one to take care of him, to wrap him up warm and keep him safe...

He cleared his throat and shielded his mind viciously the way Emma had taught him. In front of him, Charles winced slightly, and Erik frowned. He hoped he hadn’t been hurt when Jean let him fall earlier - God only knew how often he’d been dropped before that, the fool. Certainly enough to blacken his eye.

He dismounted and let Bishop take his horse into the stables, then jerked his head at Charles. “Come on,” he said gruffly, and lead him through the palace towards his own chambers. They really needed to organise somewhere more permanent for the man, but for now Erik would have to use his own quarters to tell him off about his recklessness. For his friends’ sakes, obviously. It was absolutely nothing to do with the fact that Erik had tasted his own heart in his mouth when he’d realised it was Charles up there…

He whirled around the moment they were both in his room, arms crossed. “What were you thinking out there? Jean is a child, you can’t-- what are you doing?”

Charles was on his knees, trembling hands fumbling with the ties of his tunic. “I’m sorry, your majesty, please--”

“Get up, Charles, what--”

Charles stood and pulled the tunic over his head, and Erik was struck dumb by the sight of his skin _again,_ the goosebumps pebbling over his lightly muscled torso and how the hell had they arrived here again? 

“Please don’t hurt them, sir,” he said, swallowing hard. The tunic fell to the floor, and Charles dropped his hands to his trouser laces. 

In a panic, Erik grabbed his wrists. Charles sucked in a sharp breath, almost a whimper, and Erik felt sick. “What. Do. You think. You are _doing?”_

Charles looked up at him, his breath shallow and panicked but his blue eyes clear and steady and determined. “I’ll do anything, my lord,” he said. “Please… don’t punish them for my behaviour?”

“I told you,” Erik said, pressing Charles’ arms against his bare chest and pushing firmly. “You are not a bed slave.”

“I’m offering,” he said, and his adams apple bobbed again. “I will do anything to keep them safe.”

Erik shook his head, exasperated. _“What_ are you talking about?! Keep them safe from what?”

“You said… sir…”

“I’m not going to hurt them! Why would I hurt my own people?”

“But… they’re not your people.”

Erik rolled his eyes. “They’re mutants, and they’ve come to Genosha. They’re my people. I told you, Charles, slaves don’t exist here, no matter what Marko told you. No matter what… _Shaw_ did, when he was king.”

Charles wrapped his arms around his chest, still obviously distressed, and Erik turned away, because what was he supposed to do? Take him in his arms and comfort him as he wanted to? Stroke his hair and gift him warm cloaks and smooth healing balm into his bruises? He was not made for such things and Charles wouldn’t want them from him anyway.

“I… don’t understand, then, your majesty,” he said, his voice still small. “What did I do to anger you so much, if I’m not… yours?”

Erik threw up his hands and turned back to glare at him. “You idiot! You were in danger, that’s what! I was concerned about your wellbeing - had you fallen in just the wrong way, you’d have broken bones, possibly even… and then imagine what your friends would have done? What poor Jean would have felt, knowing she’d hurt you so? We have no doctors to speak of, and only rudimentary medical care. _Think,_ Charles! Look after yourself for the good of others!”

Charles looked up at him, his tense shoulders dropping at once, his eyes widening. “You were concerned for me?”

“I am concerned for all of my subjects! I’m the king!”

He smiled then, soft and sweet, and Erik turned away in the face of such radiance.


	7. If All the Year Were Playing Holidays

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Charles is incapable of staying out of life-threatening situations.

_If all the year were playing holidays,_

Charles closed the door behind him and frowned at his hands, resting on the dark oak. Erik was not what Charles had expected. His shields were still exceptional for a non-telepath, but the little Charles could read from him was nothing like any lord - let alone king - Charles had ever met.

He turned away, lifting his fingertips to his temple as he walked down the dark corridors. _Raven,_ he called. _Raven? Where are you?_

_Charles? Oh, god, Charles, are you OK?_

_I’m fine, darling._

_I’ve seen your_ fine _after sessions with Lord Marko - can you get out?_

 _I’m on my way to the market,_ he said, picking his pace up. God knew what Raven would try if she thought he was being held captive or hurt in some way.

 _Damn right,_ Raven replied, and Charles broke their connection with a fond smile. He’d been horrified to learn that Raven would be sold to Genosha like so much chattel. He’d have done anything to keep her away from such a fate. But now… apart from the fact that he was starting to trust Erik’s insistence that all mutants were his subjects, he didn’t know what he’d do without her insistent care.

She nearly knocked him over when he came out of the palace, the wind catching his robes and whipping them up around his legs. He laughed and wrapped his arms around her. “I really am fine, Raven,” he said. 

“I’ll believe that when I see it,” she said, pulling back and glaring at him. She turned his face from side to side, inspecting the darkening bruise on his cheekbone, poking and prodding him down his arms and ribs. He winced and squeaked when she hit the various injuries. It seems like he’d been too distracted by the excitement of training so many new mutants, and hadn’t noticed how hard he’d been landing.

Raven pulled back and narrowed her eyes at him. “You will tell me if he’s mistreating you, won’t you, Charles?”

“Yes, of course.”

She sighed. “No you won’t.”

He smiled and shrugged ruefully. “It really is fine. He’s… not at all what I expected.”

Raven squeezed his hand and he could feel her concern washing over him. “Yes, but expecting the very worst is a low bar for him to pass.”

***

Charles was touched by the number of people who came up to him as he walked through the market with Raven, Hank and the boys. Even Bishop, the tall guardsman who’d been so amused by Charles’ wide-eyed enthusiasm at his first sight of Genosha, grinned at him and patted his shoulder. 

A large group of children - probably young teens, really - ran up shouting, a homemade rag-ball tucked under one girl’s arm. “Charles!” Jean yelled, skidding to a stop in front of him. Her powerful telepathy was a hurricane around his shields and he had to reinforce them behind his slightly pained smile. “I’m so sorry, Charles,” Jean said. “Are you OK?”

“I’m fine, Jean,” he said, taking her hands in his. “No ill-effects.”

“Was Erik very cross with me?” She sighed. “He was so worried about you.”

Charles blinked, surprised that someone so young, and clearly not one of the nobility, would refer to her king with such familiarity. “No,” he said quickly. “He was cross with me - I should have known better, I’m an adult, it’s entirely my responsibility to be sensible.”

She smiled back at him, a wave of warmth washing over him. “Will you teach us again?” She asked. “If we promise not to hurt you?”

Charles bit his lip. “Or anyone else?”

“Or anyone else! We can get cushions to put down so you don’t get hurt.”

Charles laughed. “How could I refuse? If there’s no argument from any of your parents, I’ll be happy to help you any way I can. It’ll be my privilege.”

Jean turned to her friends and the group of them fist-pumped and cheered to each other. “Will you teach me tomorrow, Charles? I didn’t get a chance to show you today!” Bobby said.

“Alright,” Charles nodded.

“And me, Charles!’

“And me!”

Raven crossed her arms and grinned at Charles. “What’s that, Charles, less than twenty-four hours in a new place and you’re surrounded by children clamouring for you? Surely that’s a new record.”

***

It was when he was following Hank and Raven around the walls that he heard it. Alex, Scott and Sean had remained behind in the marketplace, and Hank and Raven were deep in conversation, so Charles was allowing his telepathy to drift, casting a gentle net across the city. It wasn’t truly intrusive - like people watching, or allowing the conversations of others to drift over you in a tavern.

But every now and then you caught something that made your mind latch on.

_I can’t touch him, but I can’t leave him… or her! Oh God, I don’t know what to do, what can I do? What if someone finds us? What if someone doesn’t?_

Before he’d really thought it through, Charles was jumping down the rugged stones of the wall, casting the net of his mind tighter. He scrambled over the slippery rocks and low scrub, getting closer and closer to the source of the words. His foot slipped on a small boulder with a yelp, there was a snarling sound, a ringing _snick,_ and Charles froze, three razor sharp blades mere inches from his throat.


	8. To Sport would be as Tedious as to Work

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles talks himself out of becoming a shish-kebab

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is late! Homeschooling is going well, but it's pretty tiring and I also keep running out of time to finish my regular work! I hope you enjoy this - and I hope everyone's well and keeping themselves and their community safe! BTW the title isn't related to the content of the chapter, not like the others are, it's just the next line in the monologue!

_To sport would be as tedious as to work,_

“I mean you no harm,” Charles said, his eyes wide, all his senses fixed on the three trembling blades at his throat. There was no response save for the huff of pained breathing. Then slowly, gradually, like a tree falling in the wood, the knives fell away. Charles was finally able to breathe and look at the owner of the knives.

A wiry man with thick sideburns lay face down in the dirt in front of him, and Charles hesitated, then bent down beside him, turning his head and checking his breathing. 

“Don’t hurt him!” a girl cried, the same voice he’d heard in his thoughts, and Charles looked up to see a teenager with a gentle, tired face and black hair with a white streak. She was lying awkwardly on the ground, and every thought in her mind was panic and self-loathing.

“I’m not going to hurt him,” Charles said gently. “You’re injured, aren’t you? All of you?”

She glanced to a bundle of bloody rags by her side, and Charles frowned, rushing over as it moved. The teenager reached out with a cry, blocking the bundle with her body, one hand out to him with a snarl on her pale face.

Charles bent down to her. “I swear to you, I shan’t hurt any of you. I want to help.”

“You can’t take us back there… you can’t let them get hold of them, I won’t let you. I’ll… I’ll hurt you if you do, you hear?”

“Who are you running from?” he frowned.

She glanced at the man and her forehead crinkled in distress, waves of care and sorrow pouring off her. “Stryker’s after them,” she said at last. “Logan said he won’t stop hunting them, not ever, but they still helped me. I won’t let you send them back there, not for anything. You’ll have to kill me first.”

“I believe you will,” Charles said. “You’re very brave, to be caring for them so well.”

She snorted, and he could sense how close to tears she was. She was hurting at every level of her mind, setting off sympathy aches in his own body. “Your leg,” he said. “What’s happened to it?”

She looked up at him, and the memory flashed through his mind, of being chased, the panic, the desperation. Of falling through the trees, the sharp pain up from her knee.

“Is it broken?” he asked, sliding carefully closer, trying not to spook her. 

She shook her head. “I don’t think so. Not anymore, anyway. It’s just… I tried to walk on it, I _did,_ and when Logan and Laura found me I pushed through as long as I could… but it’s just… it still hurts so bad.”

Her eyes filled with hopeless tears and Charles wanted to wrap his arms around her and pull her close. “You’ve done so well,” he said, and covered her hand with his.

The sensation was like falling in a dream, like all his will and strength were being sapped through the palm of his hand where it sat on hers, and he gasped, steadying himself. The girl whipped her hand away quickly, and as the ringing in his ears subsided he heard _sorry sorry so sorry no not again so sorry!_

“It’s OK,” he gasped. “It’s fine, I’m OK.”

“You’re a telepath,” she said. “It’s so _loud_ in your mind!”

He pressed his hand to his head. “How did you…”

“It’s my mutation,” she said softly. “I… I steal other people’s powers - I don’t mean to!”

“It’s fine, I’m not angry. Just fascinated - I find all mutations fascinating.” He shook his head to clear the last of the dizziness and smiled at her.

She smiled tentatively back, then glanced over at Logan and her countenance dropped once more. “I also take their strength,” she said. “Logan… I fell again today and…” She swallowed, and Charles winced as he heard the memory of the sharp snap in her mind. “My knee collapsed and… and I think it broke, so he insisted on carrying me _and_ Laura all day today, even though he’s so weak and they’ve been starved for ages - and they’ve shot him, too. He’s healing so slowly and because… because I’ve been pulling his powers away it’s just… I kept _telling_ him to leave me, but he’d just tear pieces of cloth from his jeans and wrap his arms up and try again! It just… it wasn’t enough.”

She started crying, and Charles could feel her mind spiralling into despair and catastrophe. “Alright, now, deep breaths. You’re not alone, now, you’ve got help.”

Charles was loath to trust anyone other than Raven with these people who had already clearly been so badly treated. However, he couldn’t think of a way to treat their injuries without Hank’s help. He took a deep breath and called Raven to bring help, and at least three blankets.

He turned to the girl with a smile. “I’ve called my sister and friends to help - one of them is trained in medicine, I’m hoping he can help you.” If the worst came to the worst, Charles was sure he could remove Hank’s memories of these people. “What’s your name?”

“Marie,” she said, shifting into a sitting position with a wince. “That’s Logan, and Laura.”

“I’m Charles,” he said. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

He could feel the flame of hope flickering in Marie’s heart, and his own glowed in response.

Raven, Hank and Sean arrived, carrying a blanket each. Charles stood, carefully shielding Marie, Logan and Laura from their senses. Raven narrowed her eyes at him. “What have you got yourself into now, Charles?”

Charles focused on Hank rather than his sister and friend. He already knew he could trust them. “There are some people that need our help,” he said. “I need to know if you’re willing to help heal someone without reporting them to your army - if your loyalty is too great, I completely understand, but I need to know.”

Hank frowned, his eyes flickering between Charles and Raven. Charles felt his answer without hearing him say it - Hank’s curiosity would win, up to a certain point. He was, fundamentally, a good and moral man, but he was also a scientist. Charles could work with that.

“I guess it depends on who they are,” Hank said at last. “If they’re a danger to Genosha, then…”

“They hold no ill will towards Genosha,” Charles assured him. “They’re running for their lives - all three are mutants.”

Hank’s interest sparked brighter. “What are their mutations? Where are they?”

Charles stepped aside and let the illusion drop from his strays. “Marie can absorb the mutations of others, and their strength. Logan and Laura have claws and accelerated healing.” 

Hank knelt down, his mind buzzing with possibilities. Before he could say anything too… ill advised, Charles rushed forward. “Marie has a damaged knee, probably with a newly healed break or dislocation. Logan and Laura are severely malnourished and… I’m afraid both have been horribly treated. They’re badly wounded.”

Hank frowned. “They haven’t been able to heal?”

Charles shook his head. “Their starvation probably affected it in the first place, along with whatever drugs they’ve been exposed to, and then…” He glanced at Marie apologetically. “I think contact with Marie may have reversed much of it as well.”

Marie ducked her head and Charles felt the urge to hug her. What a cruel mutation she had, to cut her off from others so. He held his hand out for Sean’s blanket. “No Summers boys?”

Sean rolled his eyes. “Scott’s got a little girlfriend - Alex isn’t sure what to think, so he’s stayed behind to keep an eye on them. Talk about cramping the kid’s style.”

Charles shared a grin with Raven, and draped the blanket around Marie’s shoulders. “Do you think one of us can pick you up?” he asked, holding out his arms.

Raven rolled her eyes. “Out of the way, Charles, of the two of us, I think I’m less likely to fall over backwards under the weight of a teenager.”

Charles mock-glared at her, but stepped aside and draped a second blanket over Raven’s shoulders so that Marie could put an arm around her to steady herself. Raven smiled at the girl. “Comfortable?”

Marie nodded up at Raven, her cheeks pinking. Charles looked away, suppressing a smirk. It wouldn’t be the first time a young girl developed a crush on his sister, whether she was in her cherubic blonde human-passing form, or her powerful blue form.

Hank checked Laura over and frowned, anger making his hair stand on end. “If you carry her, lift her carefully. We need to get some nutrients into her.”

Charles lifted Laura very gently while Hank directed Sean to help him carry Logan. Both Laura and Logan seemed significantly heavier than they looked, and Charles leaned backwards, hoping he wouldn’t drop the little girl.

He led the others back down to the barracks, where the Westchestrians were still staying due to a lack of other options. Sean quickly straightened the covers on three of the beds and they lowered their charges down. Hank immediately went to work stripping the rags from Logan and Laura, and the three Westchestrians stepped back in horror, covering their mouth and nose as they saw the absolute mess these people had been made. 

“What in hell?” Sean muttered in horror.

“They’ve been tortured, that’s for sure,” said Hank grimly. “Long term starvation, dehydration, scars and burns. Not to mention sites for adhering electrodes.” He glanced up at Charles. “I came across some in my old studies - a new process using magnets and thin strands of copper to generate controlled electrical storms, I wonder if we could talk to Ms Munro from Wakanda at some point…

“Perhaps not today,” Charles said pointedly.

“Ah, no, of course.” He bent down over Logan’s form again. “Fascinating. You can almost see the healing happen, it’s incredibly fast. As soon as they wake up we’ll get some proper nutrition into them and I’m sure their healing powers will return.”

“And if they don’t wake up?” said Marie, her forehead crinkled in distress.

Hank frowned and bit his lip. Charles caught the thread of worry in his mind, under the scientific fascination. “Should I wake them?” he asked, tapping his temple.

Hank shook his head. “Perhaps it would be better if they slept for a little while longer. We’ll keep an eye on them and hope for a positive change tomorrow. For now, we can clean them up, and we can get some support around that knee of yours, Marie.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always thank you all SO MUCH for your comments... I'm going to have a go at answering them soon, I promise! It might have to just be really basic 'thank you I love you' ones or something but I can't leave them un-answered, that would not be cool! Thank you!


	9. They Wished for Come

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erik and Charles start to form a true partnership, just in time for the other resident telepath to disappear on diplomatic duties...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so so sorry, guys, I'm behind on all of my updates! I'll be posting chapters of both my fics today... time has just run away from me ;_; I'm still trying to snatch moments in between homeschooling and work and sleep, but my mental health is also fucking around a bit when it comes to comments... so I haven't answered any ;_; I'm so sorry!! I appreciate them so much, thank you! I promise I will answer every single one as soon as I can, even if it's just with a stock message!

_But when they seldom come, they wished for come_

“I don’t see why you should take a holiday so soon into his reign,” grumbled Azazel.

Emma flicked her hair back and gathered her furs around herself. “I told you, sweetheart, it’s not a holiday. Sokovia is a dangerous neighbour to have, and we need to make diplomatic overtures towards them as soon as possible.”

“Emma’s right,” said Janos from a chair at the head of the table. He was lounging in it, one leg dangling over the arm rest, his head propped up on his hand. “You notice they sent a minor Duke to the coronation - an obvious insult if ever I saw one.”

“And if we can’t make friends in high places, at least we can make friends on the other end of the lever,” Emma smirked.

Azazel raised his eyebrows. “You schemers. It’s exhausting to work with you.”

Erik tapped his fingernails on the desk, stripping a scrap of metal into fragments and reforming it in mid-air while he thought. “The real problem is that Emma is one of our major defences,” he reminded them. “We’ll need to be careful over the coming months without her powers to watch for intruders.”

“Perhaps you should talk to that little mouse of a telepath you’ve got warming your bed,” Emma smirked.

Erik blushed, and was immediately furious with himself. “He is not warming my bed!”

Emma’s smirk only grew. “Oh, but you wish he were, don’t you, sugar?”

Erik glowered at her. “No,” he said firmly, and shored up his mental defences the way she’d taught him. She rolled her eyes at him and turned away. 

“Anyway,” Erik continued, clearing his throat. “He’s only a weak telepath.”

Emma hummed. “So Marko said. I wouldn’t trust him to know which end of a sword to use, let alone the quality of any mutants he had nearby. I’m just saying, he may be as weak as you think he is, but he can train. At least set up some defence over the castle. Your room, at least, if he insists on staying there.”

“He doesn’t insist on staying there, we just haven’t found him a room yet.”

“Uh-huh,” she said. Azazel snorted. Janos just watched between them like a ticking pendulum. “You keep telling yourself that.”

“I don’t know why I keep you around,” Erik said to all of them. “You’re all insubordinate.”

Janos snorted. “You love it,” he said. “It reminds you that you’re better than _him.”_

Erik cleared his throat and looked back at the map, crushing the pieces of metal together a little harder than necessary. “Have you arranged transport once you arrive in Sokovia?” he asked Emma.

She nodded briskly. “Moira’s organised a coach to wait for me a couple of miles from the city,” she said. “Azazel will drop me at the pre-arranged co-ordinates, and I’ll ride in style from there, as is expected of an ambassador.”

Erik nodded and stood. “Good luck, then,” he said. “And… be safe.”

“Aww, honey,” she smirked. “One would almost think you cared.”

“Only about Genosha’s telepathic defence network,” he grinned back.

Her smile twinkled a little. She stepped forward to Azazel and took his arm like they were going to a formal dance. In a puff of sulphurous smoke, they were gone. 

Erik looked at Janos and sighed. “Well,” he said. “Let’s hope it ends well.”

Janos shrugged. “If it doesn’t, at least you’ll be happy to be back in your crusty old battle clothes, you warlord.”

“You take such offence to my wanting to be comfortable!”

“I do not,” said Janos, getting to his feet. “I take offence to you being so pathetic about good clothing!”

Erik took the long way back to his quarters, walking out on the open balustrades and breathing the chill air, the curl of early evening cooking smoke, the peace of his city. Janos may have believed him to be a warlord, but his greatest achievement was the peace he had won in defeating Shaw. He knew he wasn’t the most approachable person, and he knew there was much to be done asserting his dominance and the stability of Genosha following a coup, but he hoped that at least his own people felt more comfortable with him on the throne than the so-called Doctor.

He took one last long breath of fresh air, and then turned, his cape fanning out behind him, and returned to his room. He was lost in thought as he shut the door behind him, so when he turned to find Charles standing there with his hands clasped in front of him and a concerningly innocent smile on his face, he startled visibly. “Good God, Charles, you scared the life out of me!”

Charles blinked at him, and the slightest flicker of a smile skirted his lips. “I’m sorry, my King, that wasn’t my intention.”

Erik let out a breath and cleared his throat. He looked around, frowning, at the food on the table. “Did you… Charles, you do realise you don’t have to bring me my meals.”

“Oh! Yes, I realise that, but, well, I was on my way through the kitchen, and Kitty looked so busy, she said Darwin’s run off his feet as well co-ordinating the repair work in the outer defences, so I helped her out for a little and then it just made sense to come up here with your food. Especially once Kitty learned how truly awful I am at cooking.” 

He looked up at Erik with a shy smile and a little shrug, and Erik wondered how it was possible that anyone could be this likeable and sweet and still be devastatingly attractive. He quickly slammed his shields up a little harder, and Charles flinched, rubbing his temple. Erik looked away, wanting to apologise, wanting to not have done that.

“Umm, anyway,” Charles said, looking away from Erik, which was almost as unbearable as when he looked _at_ Erik, “your dinner.”

“Charles,” he said with a sigh. Charles looked up again. Erik groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I just… I apologise for not finding you a suitable room.”

“That’s fine, the couch makes perfect sense - and you’re busy.”

“No, it was disrespectful of me. I’m sorry.”

Charles smiled wryly. “I don’t think it can count as disrespect if it’s the treatment of your slave.”

Erik glared at him. “That’s not it at all! I’ve told you before, there is no slavery in Genosha. In fact, I shall make an announcement to that effect tomorrow, since it is clearly something that needs clarification.”

He marched towards his desk to make a note for himself - it would have to be written into the constitution. Actually perhaps they needed a new constitution, and that would require a consultation with much of the populace, to ensure that everyone’s will and needs were taken into consideration.

“Erik,” said Charles softly. “I mean… your Majesty…”

“Erik is fine, Charles,” he said, tilting his head on one side, confused by Charles’ change in demeanour. “Everyone calls me that here.”

He took a deep breath, steeling himself, and Erik turned to face him, concerned. “I have to ask you… I would like…” He bit his lip and looked Erik right in the eye. “I need to ask your help, but I need to know that you won’t harm them.”

“Who?” he asked, frowning. 

Charles closed his eyes, looking almost pained with the uncertainty. “They are fugitives - mutants, injured and afraid. I need to ask if you will give them sanctuary in Genosha.” He opened his eyes once more and to Erik’s shock, fell to his knees before him. “I implore you, please help them. Please keep them safe here?”

Erik stepped forward involuntarily and grasped Charles by his elbows, lifting him back to his feet. Then he froze, so close to that intense gaze, that worried face, and felt as if the world had narrowed down to nothing more than Charles’ eyes.

He stepped back sharply and cleared his throat again. “I know you think me some sort of monster, but you do not have to beg me for such things,” he said, turning back to his desk. “I would not turn away a fellow mutant, not for anything. I have said it before, and I mean it to the bottom of my heart. All mutants are my people. All mutants will find a home in Genosha.”

A slow, sweet smile swept over Charles’ face. The force of it seemed to bathe him in warmth and he felt flustered from it, unable to bear the softness of it. “Thank you, Erik,” said Charles. 

Erik glanced up at him and nodded sharply. What was he if not sharpness and hardness and steel? “Well,” he said gruffly. “Let us meet these fugitives, then.”

“Oh! Oh, I see, right now?”

Erik raised his eyebrows at him.

“Yes, of course. Um. They’re in the barracks with Raven and the other Westchestrians. Ex-Westchestrians, I mean.”

Erik turned with a slight smirk, away from Charles’ nervous, excited babble. He changed into more comfortable clothes before they walked down into the city and towards the barracks. So what if Janos said it was important to make a good impression now he was king? He could hardly travel quickly and privately while dressed in bright velvet.

Charles led him to the barracks and touched his fingertips to his temple. Within a moment the blue-skinned woman had pulled the door open and was glaring at Erik. “I hope you know what you’re doing, Charles.”

“Don’t I always, Raven dear?”

She snorted. “No! You’re the most trusting idiot I’ve ever met!”

Erik bristled, but he couldn’t deny that he had thought the same about Charles himself. Charles sent him a rueful shrug and nudged Raven out of the way. “How are they doing, Hank?” he asked.

A blue-furred man in soldier’s uniform was bent over one of the beds, a horn-rimmed pair of spectacles glinting in the light from the oil lamps. “His blood pressure’s worryingly low, I’m concerned that he’s not going to be able to recover from his injuries if we don’t get some hydration into — your Majesty!”

The man - Hank - stood very suddenly to attention, his eyes wide with horror. Charles straightened up as well, watching Erik like he was a danger - yet again. It was getting quite dull, really, Erik thought petulantly. “Carry on,” he snapped at Hank, waving his hand. “How do we get hydration into him?”

“Er… OK. Well, it’s him and the little girl, though that’s not to say Marie doesn’t need a better diet and perhaps some isotonic salt and sugar solution because her dehydration is - not dangerous, but no dehydration is _good_ dehydration, and after all, as Dr Pym always says—“

“Hank,” said Raven sharply from behind Erik. “You’re babbling.”

“Yes.” Hank cleared his throat. “Yes. Sorry. Yes. I’ll just…” he turned sharply and looked back at the man lying on the bed. 

Charles smiled gently at Hank and started asking him soft questions that Erik didn’t pay much attention to. Instead, he frowned down at the invalid. He was a small, stocky man, with wild black hair and a jutting, stubborn jaw. The little girl over in the next bed had much the same attitude to her face, the same set mouth, the same high brow. Both of them had obviously suffered greatly at the hands of some monstrous so-called scientists, anyone could see that. 

But not just anyone could sense what Erik could. “Their bones,” he said at last. “I admit, I have no training in anatomy at all, but surely they shouldn’t be so… rough.”

Charles and Hank stopped mid-sentence and straightened up. “We don’t know anything about that, your Majesty,” said Erik with a shrug. “Marie told us a little, but we have no way of sensing the metal that encases their skeleton. If it’s rough… that’s going to be causing them both a lot of pain, I should think.”

Erik frowned and stepped closer to the little girl. She had a line in between her eyebrows, and Erik felt the urge to smooth it away. No child should be so exhausted from pain.

“If I were to use my power to smooth them,” he said tentatively. “Do you think that would cause them more pain?”

Hank blinked and gaped at him. “I don’t…”

“I could monitor their minds,” said Charles, his eyes suddenly sharp and calculating, a strategist. “Should their pain levels rise too high, I can soothe them.”

“You can do that?” Erik asked suspiciously. Marko had said he was only a weak telepath.

Charles’ lip twitched. “I’m confident, your Majesty.”

The sparkle in those blue eyes, the mischief, almost knocked Erik breathless. He had to look away before he did something so pathetic as blush! There was something more to Charles than he had seen, he realised. There was quite a lot more than expected waiting behind that sweet, sunny exterior, and it made something in his chest resonate with excitement and anticipation.

“Could you do it now?” asked the young girl in the third bed. She ducked her head when he looked over at her. “I mean, please, sir? They’ve been hurting for so long, if there’s anything you can do…”

Erik glanced over to Hank, who shrugged. “If Charles can monitor them and make sure they’re not too distressed, then I don’t see why not. They haven’t woken since Logan here nearly gutted Charles, it’s not like we can ask for any sort of medical consent.”

Erik narrowed his eyes at Charles, who glared at Hank in turn. “I can ask for consent in their minds,” Charles said, which wasn’t really what Erik had been annoyed about. Well, that titbit of information would have to wait for later. 

Charles stood at the head of the bed with the little girl, his hands on either side of her head. He closed his eyes and breathed slow, his eyes moving beneath the thin lids. Erik watched him for a moment, lost in the vision of Charles’ beauty. He almost startled when Charles said softly “go ahead, Erik.”

Erik closed his own eyes to better concentrate, and reached out with his powers. He focused on the joints of every bone, smoothing the roughest edges, not moving anything too far lest it be attached to flesh or tendon already. Even so, he imagined their bodies would ache from the intrusion, and shifted the metal fragments as slowly as possible, to allow muscles time to respond and relax, rather than tense up and fight.

Once Laura was done, he and Charles moved on to Logan, and Erik found himself frowning in consternation and anger when he felt the marks in the metal itself, as if the people who had done this to the man had decided to test the full extent of their modifications. He felt the first stirrings of real sympathy for Logan, who had obviously fought through horrific odds to bring two young girls to safety. The last thing he did was gently smooth out a dent on Logan’s skull, slowly lifting the indented metal into a gentle curve. Then he lowered his hand and bent over, resting on his knees and almost panting with exhaustion.

“You did it, my friend,” said Charles, and Erik looked up to see him smiling radiantly, his hair stuck to his forehead with sweat. Erik smiled back.


	10. Nothing Pleaseth but Rare Accidents

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Be careful boys, your gay is showing...

_And nothing pleaseth but rare accidents._

By the time Charles and Erik walked back to the palace the moon was high in the sky, casting a silver glow across the quiet streets. They were both still drained, but elated, and walking shoulder to shoulder.

Charles tipped his head back and sighed, soaking in the light of the vast sky. He felt the weight of Erik’s regard, and for the first time, he didn’t immediately assume the worst. Erik’s mind was still tightly wrapped up safe from him - Emma had clearly taught him shielding very effectively - but Charles could still feel the… almost affection in his gaze. He couldn’t stop himself from turning a smile on him.

Erik smiled back and looked away. “You’re more powerful than you let on, aren’t you, Charles?”

Charles’ smile turned mischievous. “There are advantages to appearing harmless.”

“There are indeed.” He cocked his head and looked at Charles once more, assessing this time. Charles left himself open to the observation. “I’m sorry I misjudged you.”

“Apology accepted,” he said, his heart warming in delight. “I apologise for misleading you.”

Erik chuckled. “Well, I certainly don’t blame you for that. The situation in which you arrived…” he shook his head. “The humans have much to answer for.”

“Not all humans are as bad as all that,” Charles insisted earnestly. “If we could only—“

“Of course not,” Erik scoffed. “Charles, I know as well as any that there is as much diversity in the hearts of humans as there is in the hearts of mutants - my entire family were human, and the best people I have ever known, and Sebastian Shaw was a mutant, and the worst person I have ever known. When one speaks of a group, one should always accept that there are individuals excluded from that.”

“I know,” he said apologetically. “It’s just a dangerous habit to get into… treating people as a group, and not a number of individuals.”

“It’s equally dangerous to believe that you can appeal to their individual sense of right and wrong. When humans - very well, _and_ mutants - act as a group, they act differently. You must be able to predict the behaviour of a group, and differentiate it from the behaviour of an individual.”

Charles felt his mind rushing down different avenues, eventualities and safeguards and strategies, like he had done so often back in Westchester. “Perhaps we need to be able to do both,” he said. “To keep our people safe, we need to predict the movement of a group, and also the thoughts of individual leaders.”

Erik stopped and looked at him, considering. “We?”

Charles bit his lip and looked away. “I apologise, I misspoke.”

“No, you didn’t,” he said. “The protection of our people is paramount. I would be glad to have you on our side.”

Charles looked up at him, warmth flooding through his body and seeming to radiate out. He caught hold of his emotions before he ended up projecting them to everyone in a ten-mile radius. “Thank you,” he said. “I know we got off on the wrong foot, but what you’re doing here… Genosha is truly the safe place for our kind that I never dared to dream of, and I would be honoured to help.”

Erik cocked his head on one side and narrowed his eyes thoughtfully, as if he were looking beyond Charles, beyond even the present. “Perhaps there is something you can do,” he said. “Emma suggested it before she…” He stopped himself and glanced around, then started walking again. “Come,” he said, and at the same time, his crisp voice sounded perfectly in Charles’ mind. _It is not safe to discuss matters of security out in the open._

Charles rushed to catch up with his long stride and tucked his hands into his pockets as he matched Erik’s pace. _Of course, the safest place to discuss anything at all is in complete silence,_ he said, sending a slight grin up to him.

Erik raised an eyebrow. “Emma doesn’t like it,” he said. “She says the meaning is lost in the transfer of images through the mind.”

Charles tilted his head. “Fascinating - she communicates solely through images? I’ve never had the opportunity to meet with other telepaths before, and now I’ve met two in so short a time! Jean relies much more on a sort of tactile, physical way than the other senses, but of course her powers are so incredibly strong that it doesn’t seem to come with a comparative dulling of any other sense, she can still transmit visual signals as clearly as I can already.”

Erik seemed startled. “I had no idea telepaths had different ways of communicating.”

“Well, neither did I, until Genosha. I know from observation that humans have a natural diversity of thinking, with many attaching a greater import to vision than sound, or vice versa. I would hypothesise that it’s down to minor genetic diversity rather than a learned function, although I have idly wondered if there’s any cultural impact. Of course I haven’t had much of a chance to test that thought yet, and the fact that everyone in Genosha is a mutant reduces the validity of…”

He trailed off as he noticed Erik watching him with a soft expression. Charles blushed and looked away. “I’m so sorry… I get carried away.”

“No, not at all! Your passion is… quite something.”

Charles put his hand over his face. “Oh, dear, that’s so embarrassing!”

“Not at all,” Erik said, and Charles had to look up at the strength of Erik’s words. He was staring at him with a firm gaze, his jaw set. “You should not be ashamed of your gifts, Charles. Not just your mutation, either.”

Charles felt that intoxicating warmth flood through his whole body again, and pulled it down, concentrating it into a little ball of pure light just over his heart, precious to him, and dangerous. He cleared his throat. _You said there may be some way for me to help?_

Erik nodded and led him into his quarters, taking him over to the desk and pouring two goblets of spring water from a ewer on the side. _Emma Frost, one of my generals, has had to take a diplomatic mission to Sokovia, and that leaves us without a telepath’s protection. Is there any way you can periodically scan the area for threats? If you’re comfortable doing so, of course - and capable._

Charles took the drink Erik offered and nodded, already thinking of the best possibilities. _I’ve definitely set up advance warning systems of my own before, though they were smaller, of course - when the people in your own home are a constant threat to you, being too aware of their thoughts can make you crazy - but I think I can adjust my methods to serve Genosha better._ The undercurrent of his thoughts sent themselves down several different directions, considering the possibility of timed sweeps, of sampling sections of the city piece by piece in turn, or even the more difficult process, which in the long term would be more effective, of setting up a network of psionic traps, a spider’s web which would need little enough maintenance when set up properly, but which would lead any ill-intent back to Charles’ mind before it could get close enough to cause harm.

“You have a plan,” said Erik, tilting his head on one side.

“I may have several,” Charles said. He tapped the side of his head and looked up questioningly at Erik. “I’d appreciate your input.”

Erik nodded, and Charles opened his thoughts, reaching out to Erik and tugging him gently into his mental landscape.

At some point they moved to sit on the end of Erik’s bed, still deep in shared thought, their drinks forgotten on the table. Charles found himself delighting in Erik’s open, intelligent interest, his input, the perspectives he had never considered, and when Erik reached out and started projecting his own thoughts into Charles’ mental vision, Charles had to swallow hard, hold the soft sphere of warmth above his heart that was threatening to burst out of him and expose everything. Because Erik was perfect.

Charles smiled at Erik’s sparkling eyes and intense discussion on ethics and morality, and his throat ached. He always did this. He always threw his whole heart into… investing in someone, could never do it in a small way. A temporary way. He still worshiped his mother, would never stop loving her even as he knew she was incapable of loving him. Even as he knew he would never _trust_ her, he still adored her with every aching inch of the child he once was. He knew there was no way back from this. 

That didn’t mean anything would change, he told himself firmly. He was pragmatic. Loving and doing weren’t necessarily the same - he may love his mother but he would never return to her. He may love Raven, but he would never again ask her to trust him, to shelter him and exist with him in a world of their own, inside their minds. Like he and Erik were doing. She had asked him to stay out of her head, and other than communicating verbally, he would never ask for more. So it could be with Erik. Charles was strong. He’d survived much worse than a little bit of pining.


	11. Pay the Debt I Never Promised

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Plot and fluff!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God, I'm sorry guys, I entirely forgot about posting last week! Literally only remembered by Friday and I was busy so I decided to leave it until today anyway! Work is... _slightly_ back under control? I hope? And children are being very good little homeschoolers so... hopefully I'll be a bit more active here! I've missed it!

_So when this loose behavior I throw off  
And pay the debt I never promisèd,_

Erik woke with the early morning sun sending fingertips through his window, warming his bare arm where it lay flung to the side. He blinked, and came face to face with Charles.

He froze for a moment as the memories of last night returned. How he and Charles had buried themselves in Charles’ mental landscape, a great green lawn surrounded by oak trees and a quiet stream at the bottom of a slight rise. How Charles had spoken, waving his hands to express himself, as if he couldn’t contain all his passion in his voice alone, and it had to come out somehow. Even in an imaginary, private world, Erik had been captivated by him, unable to tear his eyes away.

They had begun by discussing what Charles could do to protect Genosha - Erik had jumped on the idea of a mental safety net, and they had outlined a rough plan for determining the best anchor points both physically and mentally, and also decided on a number of guards who might be willing to call out to Charles mentally from a greater distance than usual if they needed to send warnings. This would require a link to be created between them beforehand, along with a trigger word or phrase that would activate it, and call Charles’ attention.

But then, somehow, they had begun to discuss Genosha herself, Erik’s favourite places. Charles’ favourite places in the limited area he had explored. Erik told Charles about Janos trying to dress him in finery, and Azazel flirting outrageously with everyone except Janos, with whom he _still_ got shy, even after years of being together. Charles told him about the children who were quickly becoming his students, the funny, mad things they said and their brilliant mutations. 

“What you’ve created here for them… the safety you’re giving them, it’s the most beautiful thing, Erik. I know that things were so tense under Shaw’s rule but the months since you’ve been in power… these children have a future. Their fear is a memory, and that’s because of you.”

Erik shook his head and chuckled, but he was sure the landscape itself became golden with the outpouring of his pride. “It’s not at all my doing,” he said. “I know very well that my people fear me - they know me as a warlord, I’m still proving myself to them. Proving that I care enough not to hurt them, and that I’m strong enough to protect them from outside.”

Charles had reached his hand over to cover Erik’s. “You sell yourself too short, my friend,” he said earnestly. “Your people know you better than that. They trust you. They trust in their future, and that… that’s a rare thing.”

Erik felt himself blushing the way he had done in Charles’ mental world last night. Now he lay on the sheets, uncomfortable from having fallen asleep in his clothes, his tunic twisted around him. At some point he or Charles had tugged a blanket over the two of them, and Charles lay with his head pillowed on his own arm, his lips slightly parted as he breathed steadily. Erik watched the sun rise over his face, bathing his freckled skin in warm orange light.

The door burst open, and he sat up at once, pushing himself up. “My King,” said Darwin, and then stopped, blinking at Charles, just starting to stir. 

Erik saw a frown flicker over Darwin’s face and sighed, knowing nothing he said would make Darwin stop assuming whatever he was assuming. “What is it?” he asked instead.

“There’s been an attack on the barracks,” Darwin said, his focus back at once. “Three men bearing Sokovia’s insignia entered under the cover of night and tried to abduct a young girl and a man as they slept.”

“What?” Erik snapped, snatching up his sword and scabbard with his power and lashing it around his waist, tugging his boots on in haste. “How far did they get? Has anyone seen them--”

“They were stopped, sir,” Darwin said, one hand out placatingly. “The Westchestrians fought well and managed to subdue two of them quickly. The third… well, he made the mistake of picking up the little girl. It’s very clear now that she is well protected.”

“Logan,” said Charles, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. Erik almost fell over with how adorable he was, knuckling away his tiredness. “Is he alright?”

“He is,” said Darwin, also smiling fondly at Charles’ bedhead. Erik approved - Charles should be appreciated by everyone. “He’s awake and talking, but he’s also exhausted. The shapeshifter - Raven, is it? - turned into a giant of a man and threatened to sit on him if he didn’t lie back down again.”

Charles laughed and pulled his own boots on. “That certainly sounds like Raven,” he said. 

The three of them hurried out into the palace, the air still chilly after the warmth of that blanket and proximity to Charles. Erik saw Charles shiver, and frowned, annoyed that he hadn’t reminded him to take a cloak. He was used to the cold mornings, but Charles was not.

The barracks were packed with people, most still in their nightclothes. Alex and Sean were sitting astride a man each, gripping their hands tight behind their backs and looking grim but pleased with themselves. A massive man who’d been standing over Logan’s bed, where he was curled around Laura, shrank down into Raven and rushed over to hug Charles. “You missed all the action,” she grinned.

Charles looked at the body in the corner of the room and paled. Erik wondered how much action he had really seen and decided it would probably be best to keep him away from battle for as long as possible. The damage was gruesome, to be fair. Logan had clearly killed him by slicing through his body with the blades Erik had noticed between his knuckles, and a small group of Genoshan soldiers were now quietly discussing the best way to dispose of the body. 

“Call Azazel,” Erik said quietly to Darwin, who nodded and turned to a soldier to pass the instruction along.

Erik walked over to Logan and looked down on the man, who snarled ever so slightly and curled himself around Laura’s body. “My apologies,” said Erik stiffly, putting his hand over his chest. “They should never have got this far.”

“That’s great and all, bub, but I don’t know who you are or where I am.”

A couple of whispers broke out behind him, and Erik could detect amusement in some of them. “This is Genosha,” he said. “And my name is Erik Lehnsherr.”

Laura gasped audibly, and she and Logan looked at each other. Logan had no fear in his eyes as he looked up at him, but there was a new caution. “So… we got here then.” He cleared his throat and glanced around, his gaze lingering on Charles, who was only a couple of paces behind Erik. “We never planned on calling this much attention to ourselves,” he admitted.

“What did you intend to do?” Erik asked.

“Hide,” he admitted. “Heal. Maybe… find some food and shelter.”

“Well, you’ve done a few of those things,” Erik said, gesturing around him. “But it seems like healing might have been set back by your exertions. Hank?”

Hank stepped forward, blinking owlishly. How had he ever ended up as a soldier? “Sir?”

“Has Logan done himself further injury?”

Hank glanced around at his superior officer nervously. Erik sighed and rolled his eyes. “Hank, as of this moment you are relieved of your duties.”

“My king!” he almost wailed.

“Instead,” Erik continued, “You’ll be in charge of our medical needs full time. Darwin will set you up with a room in the palace, and you will assist with any injuries you can.”

Hank’s eyes widened and he dropped to one knee. “Thank you, your majesty!”

Erik frowned, flustered. “Do get up. And you owe Charles your thanks, not me - he was the one who told me where your skills lie. Now do your job and check the patients over.”

Hank scrambled to his feet and rushed over to Logan, instructing him to lie back and show his ribs and arms for diagnosis. Erik, meanwhile, turned back to the group. “What are all of you doing in here?” he asked, raising his voice to reach the civilians in the back. “Don’t you have anywhere better to be?”

They sighed and started to clear out. Azazel appeared with the young soldier, and Erik left him to the dead body, while he turned to the two living would-be kidnappers. “Are you two injured?” he asked Alex and Sean. They glanced at each other and shook their heads. “Good,” he said. “You’d best take these two humans to the throne room.”

The boys stood, dragging the Sokovians up with them, and Darwin beckoned, leading them out of the barracks. Erik turned back to Charles, who was talking softly to Marie, his hand hovering above her shoulder, his eyes soft with sympathy. Erik bit the inside of his lip to keep his face from radiating affection. “Charles,” he called, perhaps more sharply than he had intended. “I’ll be questioning the prisoners. You _stay here,_ do you understand? One of the guards will accompany you back to the palace if you need to return.”

Charles looked up, his eyebrows raising, and bowed sharply, his hand on his chest in the Westchestrian manner. _Good luck,_ he said in Erik’s mind, his voice as cool and crisp as a mountain stream. Erik turned on his heel and marched out before he could blush.


	12. By How Much Better Than My Word I Am

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The plot thickens, and misunderstandings abound. But for once, not between Charles and Erik.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this is late again!! BUT I'm hoping in the next few days I'll have a suuuper exciting announcement about some of my original stuff!

__

_By how much better than my word I am,_

Charles turned back to Marie rather than risk watching Erik leave the room, his eyes lingering on his back. He paused when he felt Raven’s eyes on him. “What?” he asked.

“Are you OK, Charles?” she asked seriously, her voice low.

“Yes, of course, why?”

She glanced around and looked at him with such concern that his skin began to prickle. What was wrong? _We can leave any time you want,_ she said softly into his mind. _You know we’ll be able to slip away. You can hide us._

Charles frowned and tilted his head to one side. “I really don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said with a confused smile. Raven just sighed and folded her arms, looking back at Laura. Charles shrugged and turned back to talk to Marie.

“What’s going to happen?” Marie asked quietly. 

“King Erik will find out what the soldiers wanted when they attacked you,” Charles said, holding his hand just above her arm and projecting the sensation of touch. She leaned into it, desperate for contact, and he smiled at her before turning back to Hank, who was straightening up from Logan’s check-up. “How are the patients?”

“Exhausted, though you wouldn’t know it to talk to them,” Hank said, casting Logan a reproachful look. “Their bones all seem to have healed almost completely from… before. Now it’s just a case of making sure they get sufficient nutrients, particularly Laura, as she’s growing.”

Charles caught the tail-end of Logan’s thoughts in response to that and smiled at him. “I’m sure there will be plenty of food for both of you,” he said aloud. “You no longer need to starve yourself for her - for either girl.”

Laura looked from Charles to Hank, and then to Raven, seeking reassurance. She laid her head on Logan’s chest and stared into the distance, exhausted, but tentatively hopeful. Charles’ heart ached for her, so young and yet so experienced in the horrors of the world.

Hank went over to Marie’s bed to check on the progress of her knee, and Charles was considering finding a guard to take him back to the palace when Logan stood and grabbed his wrist, his grip tight. “You’ve got the ear of the king, haven’t you?” he asked, his voice a low rumble.

“I’m not sure I’d go so far as to--”

“You smell of him, bub,” said Logan. “Not that - not yet - but you smell the way a person does when they’ve been sleeping next to someone else.”

Charles turned to face him, his eyes narrowing. “You’ve really got the wrong idea--”

“Yeah, whatever you say,” he said, waving his hand. “I need you to know… I need you to convince him not to give Laura back to them.” He glanced back at the girl, who was sitting up in bed with her arms wrapped around her knees and her lank black hair hanging around her face, not quite obstructing her wide, glaring eyes. 

Charles squeezed Logan’s arm, calling his gaze back. “Erik would never hand a child over to anyone.”

Logan nodded, disbelief sour in his thoughts. “He might after he finds out…” He took a deep breath. “Laura and I are weapons. Created to be weapons. Stryker’s not going to let us go easily.”

“Neither will we,” said Charles.

Logan looked at him and in that moment Charles saw all they’d been through, the escape, how much it had torn them to pieces, nearly killed them. How long they’d been pursued. “He’ll declare war to get us back,” Logan said quietly. “And… you can bargain with me as the chip. Just… swear you won’t let him have her again.”

Charles gritted his teeth and felt his emotions swelling up in him. The loyalty, the protectiveness… he glanced to Laura and Marie and hoped they knew what a father they had in him, for that’s how he saw himself to them. Not in name, but in deed, more so than any parent he had ever known. This man would face a fate worse than death to give a little girl a better life. “Leave it with me,” said Charles, his gaze boring into Logan’s and trying, without actively changing his mind, to convince him that this was the truth. “We won’t be giving either of you back to those people.”

Logan quirked a smile, patted him on the shoulder and returned to the girls. Charles watched him sit on the high bed, Laura snuggling in close to him with her ferocious expression unchanging even as he slung an arm around her shoulders. There was no way Charles would let anyone separate those two, even if he wasn’t sure that Erik would keep them safe.

He tucked his hands into the pockets of his trousers and stepped into the chill morning air. One of the guards at the door nodded to him and fell in step automatically as they walked back to the palace. “His majesty will be in the lower hall, I’d wager,” she said, leaving him at the door. “Down that corridor and to the left.”

Charles nodded his thanks and followed the sense of Erik’s mind as well as the guard’s directions. He hesitated outside the door, hearing low murmurs from within. What if he was interrupting? He didn’t want to distract Erik, or change the dynamic of whatever interrogation they were conducting with the prisoners, but if they allowed him in, he could retrieve whatever information they wanted anyway. But it was a matter of doing so in a way that made Erik look like he was still completely in charge, just in case these soldiers were ever sent back to Sokovia. 

He frowned, considering, then took the risk. At first, all he did was hover in the outer edges of Erik’s consciousness, waiting to see if he could spare the attention, then he sent a querying sensation to him. Erik blinked. _Charles?_

 _I hope you don’t mind?_ Charles asked. _I can help._

Erik strode over to the door and opened it wide. Charles bowed demurely and stepped inside. Right choice. He could already hear the sullen captives recognising him, the Westchestrian bed-slave. Well, he supposed his image had been spread around well enough when he’d been a prince. And apparently Marko wasn’t being too quiet about what he’d done with him.

Erik crossed the room to sit in a high-backed chair and propped his chin on his fist, his elbow on the arm rest. Charles took up position just behind his left shoulder. “It does not matter what claim Baron Stryker has on what weapons, it is not your place to invade my borders and attack my people.”

“With all due respect,” said one of the men with an unctious smile. “None of the people involved were Genoshan.”

“If they were mutants, they were Genoshan,” Erik retorted. “More so, they were on Genoshan soil, where you had no permission to be, let alone jurisdiction to act on another sovereign’s orders.”

“Even that one with the toad’s tongue?” said the other man, shockingly snide and confident for all that he was kneeling at the king’s feet. “One would have thought that a king would have more sense in what sort of beings he lets in, but you know what they say about mutants.”

Charles could hear the men’s fear, cloying and strong, winding around every thought and tangling the path through their minds. He frowned and put his fingertips to his temple, trying to strengthen his focus and stretch deeper into the panicked, desperate and… _triumphant_ thoughts.

His eyes widened. In that moment it became clear - Erik’s rising anger, the barbed comments, the arrogance and sarcasm of these men even through fear so thick they were almost choked by it. As Erik stood, his power reaching out for the metal at the captive’s throats, Charles gasped, and _stopped_ him.

 _Charles,_ Erik said, his mental voice afraid… betrayed. Oh God, what had he done?

 _They’re goading you,_ Charles said, his thoughts falling over themselves to _show_ Erik, prove that he was trying to help. _They want you to kill them… to break the treaty with Sokovia so that they may attack while your reign is new and untested, you mustn’t kill them, please._

Erik’s response was wordless, a breath, a widening of a thought that had been threatening to shatter under pressure. _Let me go, then,_ he said. 

Charles did so, breathing hard, almost hyperventilating in his panic. He had overstepped, almost certainly. This was not Westchester, he told himself. This was Genosha, and Erik was not Marko, he would not bring in another child to threaten when Charles misbehaved, he would not hurt another for Charles’ sins. Perhaps… perhaps he would punish him, but that would be only fair, it was fine, it was _fine._

He felt strong arms on his biceps and breathed in so sharply it sounded like a cry. “Charles,” said Erik, frowning, and Charles focused on him, his eyes raking over Erik’s face as he calmed his breathing, holding himself still and strong, his chin raised and defiant. “Charles, what is it?” Erik asked, so gently.

“I apologise,” Charles said, his voice rough and breathless. “I overstepped, I should not have taken hold of you like that. I’m sorry.” He allowed himself a second with his eyes shut, drawing strength from the darkness there. He was ready to take his punishment. “I apologise, my King.”

“That’s quite alright,” Erik said, his head tilting to the side, still concerned. “You saved me from making a terrible mistake - it startled me, but I appreciate it. You’re a lot more powerful than you let on, aren’t you?”

Charles tried a smile. Everything felt sharp and crystalline, his senses aware of everything, on the watch for any new threat. He could now see that the room was clear, and he frowned - he had lost time, he’d spent so much attention on calming his mind that he’d missed the resolution, the end of the confrontation. He could have heard so much more, what if he’d missed something important in their minds? This was just unforgivable. He pinched the bridge of his nose tightly and sighed.

“You really don’t look well,” Erik said gently. “Come, let’s get something to eat, you still haven’t had breakfast yet.”

He guided Charles through the corridors, his hand tight on his shoulder, supporting him. Back in his quarters, he sat Charles down on the chaise longue and poured him a cup of water. “Would you like to tell me what all that was about?”

Charles ran his fingers through his hair. “I’m sorry, I… panicked, I suppose. It meant I missed the end of the conversation, I’m so sorry.”

Erik laughed softly, and Charles looked up, catching sight of the crinkles at the corners of his eyes. “I still don’t think that’s anything to apologise for. I simply used the metal I’d called to gag them, rather than kill them, as… well, I must admit that was my first intention. And you’re right, that would certainly have meant war.”

“I could have picked up more important information from their minds had I been concentrating, though,” he said.

“We have more than we would have had you not been there at all,” Erik reminded him.

Charles felt like squirming under such kindness for his incomplete assistance. He shrugged and smiled. “At least my reputation precedes me,” he said. “None would look twice at a mere bed-slave.”

Erik scowled, spears of anger rising in his thoughts. “They thought that about you?”

Charles laughed. “I imagine my stepfather made merry with the information before he even presented me to you. To many people, that’s just what I am – the disgraced prince, fallen so low.” 

“I’m sorry, the what?” Erik gasped, his jaw dropping. “The _prince?”_

Charles blinked. “Did I not… oh. Well. Yes, I suppose… my mother was married to the king – I am the son of the old king, but I was not of age when she remarried. Marko made it abundantly clear that his own son would be inheriting, not a weak mutant child.” He gestured to himself.

Erik sighed and rubbed his head. “Charles…”

He shrugged, unconcerned. “What does it matter? Disgrace, mutant, slave – it’s all the same. It’s all a way of hiding. I can work with it. It doesn’t bother me.”

“It bothers me,” Erik said, his nostrils flaring, and Charles dropped his nonchalance. This was important to Erik, more so than he’d realised. “There will be no slaves in Genosha, I will have that clear.” He stood up and paced, his fists tight at his side. “I shall make a public announcement - the laws are already in the process of being changed, but we shall make more of it. Everyone shall know you are your own man, I swear it, Charles.”

Charles bit his lip thoughtfully. “It could be useful, though…”

Erik stopped and glared at him. “What?”

Charles held out his hands, placating, and stood. “Think about it. How useful would it be to have someone that everyone overlooks? Someone everyone forgets even as they sit in a room of the most important there, as they think of whatever they want without guard, because, after all, he’s just a bed slave. Any who know I’m a telepath believe me to be a very weak one.”

Erik frowned. “That is underhand.”

“It’s using all the resources we have. As you know they will. They have many more people than us. Though many of our people are stronger than humans, we have a large population of children. We need to take every advantage we can.”

Erik still hesitated. “I would swear loyalty to you,” Charles said, and realised that nothing had ever been truer. He dropped to his knees before Erik, gazing up at him fervently. “I pledge my fealty to you, and to Genosha. To the good of mutantkind.”

Erik blushed delightfully and tugged Charles to his feet. “Don’t be ridiculous,” he said, frowning. “Why would you do such a thing?”

“Because,” said Charles, refusing to let go of his seriousness. “You are the only ruler I have ever believed in.”

Erik looked at him, his face severe but his thoughts coloured with surprise and joy. “I will still not have you called a slave,” he said at last, his voice soft, but growing in strength. 

“Concubine, then,” said Charles easily, and smiled as it sent pink to Erik’s cheeks again.


	13. By So Much Shall I Falsify Men's Hopes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Many truths come to light...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MY FAVOURITE CHAPTER!!! Or maybe that's the next one... or the one after that.... OK so I really like all the chapters from here, they were SO MUCH FUN to write! I hope you enjoy them just as much! (sorry it's late as well!! And I'm making my way slowly through all the comments, I love them all and you guys so much!

_By so much shall I falsify men’s hopes;_

Janos laid out the fine clothes over Erik’s bed. Erik sighed to see them. It was bad enough that he had to sit so straight and stern, but to have to wear such uncomfortable things as well…

“I can hear you despairing from here,” Janos said in a sing-song voice.

“What, are you a telepath too, now?”

“Speaking of telepaths,” Janos said, straightening up and holding out a silk… thing. “Your new concubine came to see me.”

“Janos…”

Janos smirked. “Don’t be ridiculous, I know it’s a ruse. He told me. I’m almost certain he read my mind first, though – how you managed to inspire so much loyalty from him so quickly is beyond me.”

Erik slumped in relief. “You know I would never—”

Janos put his hand on his shoulder. “Of course, Erik,” he said. His brown eyes held Erik’s gaze for a long moment, the weight of their shared history heavy between them. He quirked a teasing smile after a moment. “You forget that some of us know you are a good man, as well as a good king.”

Erik rolled his eyes, but his lips curled up at their edges. He shoved him fondly, and Janos snickered, going back to the clothes laid out on the sheets. “He’s right, though. Charles, that is. He is very easy to underestimate, those big innocent-looking eyes?” He shook his head. “Even I can’t quite believe that he’s really capable of such underhandedness. Azazel has been fretting that we’re taking advantage of him!”

Erik shook his head. “He’s a lot stronger than he makes out,” he said, though he was torn himself between protecting Charles, and trusting his powers.

“You know that we can’t make it public knowledge that this is a ruse, don’t you?” Janos said, pausing in his movements to level a penetrating gaze on him. “Even your own people are going to believe that you’re taking him as a concubine. Are you prepared for that?”

Erik shrugged. “I don’t care what they think of me, you know that. As long as I protect them, what does it matter?”

“You cared what I thought.”

“That’s different,” he frowned. “You’re…”

Janos smirked when he trailed off. “Ah, Erik. We love you too.”

“Shut up,” he groaned, his face blazing red.

Janos laughed, a bright and delightful sound. “Come on, you soft-hearted fool. Let’s get you changed. The delegate from Sokovia will be here all too soon.”

Erik sighed and stripped his tunic off, laying it over the back of his chair. He jumped when the door thumped open.

“Oh, God, I’m so sorry!” Charles said, and Erik looked up to see him covering his face.

Janos laughed as Erik scrambled into his rich robes, his face burning once again. “Never mind that, Charles,” Janos said. “Come along and get dressed yourself.

“I can wait,” Charles said, blinking up at the two of them as if he were about to be blinded by the sight of Erik topless.

Janos smirked and nudged Erik. “Turn around, let me put your belt on. Charles, I’ll be with you in a moment. Now, Azazel is waiting at the watchtower, he’ll be here as soon as he catches sight of the delegation to tell you which of the generals Stryker will be sending.”

Erik relaxed into the tactical talk. Diplomacy was a new skill, but he had learned quickly that the best way for him to cope with it was to consider it another form of warfare, knowing all the weaknesses and usual moves of his opponents. Janos and Emma were experts at this and had trained him well, Janos with his memory for historical events and Emma with her insight into the fears of the main players. Erik couldn’t help glancing at Charles and wondering if he’d find the same information from each of them, or if he’d find different paths to take. How would he and Emma work together? Surely they’d be unstoppable.

Charles turned his gaze from where he’d been watching Janos, listening with an intense focus. He glanced at Erik and smiled, and Erik couldn’t help smiling back. _Sorry,_ he said mentally. _Thinking about you behind your back!_

Charles’ smile grew but he turned back to listen to Janos. _I do very much look forward to working with another telepath. I only hope I can be as helpful to you as she has been._

 _I’m sure you will be,_ Erik replied, grimacing as Janos tugged hard on his laces.

“Now, if you two have quite finished having a silent conversation, shall we get Charles ready?” Janos asked pertly.

“I wasn’t—”

“Thank you, Janos,” Charles said, slipping off the desk he’d been sitting on and grinning unrepentantly at Erik. 

Erik sighed and stepped away, giving them some privacy. He leaned over his desk and frowned at the documents and maps there. It had only been two days since the men had been sent back to Sokovia, an almost unprecedentedly fast response by their government. It was concerning; for all that Erik felt at his element in battle rather than politics, he didn’t actually want another war. Gathering his army to defeat Shaw had been… terrifying. The only reason so many had fought was because the alternative, staying as they were, had been unacceptable. Erik had rather fight and die than live trampled underfoot by the cruel doctor, and enough others had felt the same that they had overwhelmed his army, crushed them in a short, vicious and bloody rebellion.

Erik thought of the children who played in the streets now, who begged Charles to teach them and danced around the fires on feast days. He remembered how even some of them had fought, children barely into their teens so desperate to be free that they threw themselves into almost certain death. He had seen Jean’s eyes blank with horrors, Kitty’s face blood splattered. Warren dragging a broken wing, sobbing as he walked through the streets, looking for someone. He never knew whether he’d found them or not.

He could not put them through that again. Not if he could possibly avoid it. But neither would he hand over any mutant to be tortured and weaponised like Logan and Laura had been. If he did not stand firm on this, what did Genosha stand for at all?

“There we go,” said Janos behind him, and Erik straightened up, turning. Janos was standing in front of Charles, adjusting his collar, and Erik waited patiently for them to be ready, to settle into the throne room and wait for their visitors.

But then Janos stepped aside and Erik’s mind emptied of everything that wasn’t _Charles._

Janos had dressed him in a pair of light black trousers, bound around each ankle to keep them out of the way, his bare feet pale against the dark cloth. He wore no undershirt, his arms bare, showing the long, lean muscles that Erik had noticed the first time he saw him. Over his chest and flaring down his legs was a royal blue tunic, brocade embroidery rich in swirls and intricate patterns. Charles looked down with a slight frown, adjusting the lie of the cloth, the position of a seam, checking that the three clasps over the strip of pale skin of his chest were secure, and then he turned in a complete circle. The calf-length tunic flared out, heavy and silent, the three sections allowing him freedom to dance. 

Charles looked up at Erik, a satisfied smile on his face, and the sight of his blue eyes made so much more striking by the blue of the tunic nearly struck all the air from Erik’s lungs. It was all he could do to stay upright, staring at the vision of heaven that Charles made.

“You’ll do,” said Janos, a smile in his voice that startled Erik into sucking in a deep breath, dizzy from amazement or oxygen deprivation. 

Charles turned to Janos, the smile still confident though Erik could see a flush that rose up his cheeks the way it must be up his own. “Thank you,” he said. “I must say, I’m glad to be able to move! And… it’s beautiful.”

Janos smiled proudly. “What do you think, my King?” he asked, and they both turned towards Erik.

“Perfect,” he breathed.

The red flush dusting Charles’ cheekbones intensified. Janos smirked while Charles looked away, and Erik cleared his throat. “Well… I mean…”

There was a crack, and Erik had never been so grateful to see Azazel standing in the dissipating smoke. “Azazel – what news.”

“Nothing good, my King. Stryker himself has come,” said Azazel, his face grave.

Erik gaped at him. A cloak fell from Janos’ nerveless fingers. “Surely not.”

Azazel nodded. “He has disembarked from his carriage, I saw him walk through the city gates.”

“Let us get to the throne room quickly, then,” said Charles briskly, marching up to stand between them. He held his head high and in his bare feet and draped in fine silk that bared his skin to the cold air and everyone’s gaze, he had never looked less vulnerable. Never more like a king himself. He turned his head to look at Erik, held his gaze and nodded once. 

Erik felt his panic subside, his determination returning. He could do this. They would do this together, he, Azazel and Janos – and now Charles. He nodded back. “To the throne room, then,” he said, and Azazel reached for Janos and Erik, who each held one of Charles’ hands, and in a crack of sulphur, they were gone.

***

The news of Stryker’s attendance in person was spreading through the city, Erik could feel the tension rising around the throne room. Azazel took up position to his left, and Janos to his right. Charles, however, bent his knees and elegantly dropped to sit at Erik’s feet, resting his head on Erik’s knee, one arm looped around Erik’s calf, and Erik’s mind nearly whited out.

 _I’m sorry, is this OK?_ Charles’ voice sounded concerned in his mind. _I didn’t know you disliked being touched._

Erik almost laughed out loud. _It’s… really not that,_ he replied. _No. It’s fine. It’s… believable._

_Are you sure?_

Erik sighed. For a moment he considered trying to block Charles out of his mind, trying to force himself through the audience with Charles banned from his thoughts, but it was too dangerous. He couldn’t risk it, not when Charles had to communicate with him silently. _I have a confession,_ he said reluctantly. He could feel Charles’ arm tighten on his leg, just slightly, and winced. This would almost certainly drive Charles from him. He only hoped they could still work together. _I’m afraid I find you… captivating. Beautiful. I’m so sorry._

There was silence in his mind, and then a bright warmth that spread down the back of his neck. It felt like Charles’ smile looked, and when Charles turned to look up at him he could see that he was, in fact, smiling. That beautiful, eye-crinkling, white teethed smile. _You do?_

 _How could I not?_ Erik thought back before he could stop himself. _Since I first saw you, before your stepfather… well. I hope it doesn’t make you too uncomfortable._

Charles chuckled softly and rested his cheek on Erik’s knee again, those bright blue eyes sparkling up at him. _No… no, not at all._ Charles’ mind crackled against Erik’s own, nerves and hope and tension all tangled up. Charles laughed again. _If we weren’t about to try and avert a war I would kiss you!_

It was said in a joking tone, but Charles’ cheeks flushed bright again. Erik couldn’t help smiling back at him, his cheeks stretched wide. He put his hand on Charles head, brushing through his soft brown curls, and his heart felt ten sizes bigger.

The creak of the great door at the other end of the hall sharpened Erik’s focus instantly, and he could feel Charles’ demeanour changing just as fast. Charles’ posture slumped just a little, his back more arched, more submissive, curled at his feet like a pet. Erik had to forcibly remind himself that this was an act, that Charles was still his cunning, quick-witted self. Charles squeezed his ankle reassuringly and Erik drew up his own mask.

The Sokovians marched through the doors, Stryker in the lead, his fur-lined coat flaring about his calves. He stopped before Erik’s throne, and bowed. Erik inclined his head in response. “Commander Stryker. What can we do for you?”

“I come to seek the return of my property,” Stryker replied. At Erik’s knee, Charles shifted, brushing his fingers over his temple briefly. Stryker didn’t even spare him a glance, holding Erik’s gaze with a simple arrogance. “I received word that Weapon X and Weapon 23 have sought sanctuary here.”

“They are mutants, and as such are citizens of Genosha,” Erik said, keeping his voice steady.

Stryker shook his head. “They are my creations, unnatural. Such artificial existence cannot count as true life, no more a citizen of Genosha than our canon are citizens of Sokovia.”

“I’m afraid we shall have to agree to disagree – however the understanding Genosha has of living beings, of mutants, encompasses that of such… as you say, artificial existence. As far as I am concerned, Logan and Laura are mutants and belong here.”

Stryker rolled his eyes. “Oh come now, at least be honest, your Majesty. You have no more interest in their personhood than I.”

“I beg your pardon?” Erik growled, his jaw clenching. 

_Calm your mind,_ Charles murmured in his ear, his voice distracted.

“They are weapons to you, I see that,” Stryker shrugged. He gestured at Charles. “Just as you keep your bed-slave. You can call him by a different name, but I see Westchester’s gift has pleased you. Perhaps we can come to a similar arrangement with the Weapons?”

Erik stood abruptly, his fury lashing out wildly, all the metal in the area swirling and blending together. Swords melted and ran out of scabbards, and his crown vibrated hard enough to send an angry hum throughout the room. 

And then Charles stood, holding his fingers to his temple. “It’s a trick,” he shouted. “A trap – Erik, Genosha is surrounded!”


	14. Like Bright Metal on a Sullen Ground

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cry havoc, and let slip the dogs of war.
> 
> (yes, I know, different play, ask me if I care)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> muahahahhaah...

__

_And, like bright metal on a sullen ground,_

Chaos struck the throne room. At the cries of the audience, before any of the Genoshans could react to Charles’ words, Stryker shouted “Now, Captain!” and his party disappeared in a flash.

“They have a teleporter?” Darwin shouted, rushing forwards with his guard.

“No,” Azazel said, his face like thunder as he materialised beside them. “A device – I saw the man beside him wield it.”

Erik swore. “Darwin, clear the throne room. Janos, Azazel, muster the troops. Charles.” He turned and grabbed Charles by the arm, hustling him back towards the corridor. “What exactly did you see?”

Charles trotted to keep up with Erik’s longer gait. “Their approach in diplomacy was always a ruse, they had no intention of risking the loss of either Laura or Logan. Stryker planned to hold talks with you, offer to let you keep one of them in exchange for some sort of trade – it doesn’t matter what, he had no mind to keep to his word. While you sat in talks, it would give the larger part of his army time to gather. Erik, I’m sorry, it was shrouded well, or I’d have been able to give you more warning.”

“No, you’ve done well – what of the army now, you said it surrounded Genosha?”

Charles frowned and paused at a window, his fingertips at his temple. “No… I’m not sure.” He grimaced. “That too is hidden, somehow. I get flashes of a vast army, at once on the move, then in camp, and then nothing. I’ve never seen anything like it before, it’s as if there are two truths before me, both accurate, but conflicting. But they should be visible by now.”

“Another device?” Erik asked, standing beside him, his body vibrating with tension. “If Sokovia can mimic the skill of a teleporter, they may be able to shield themselves from view.”

“Possibly,” he conceded. “Though if that were the case I would be able to read the thoughts of those out of sight. As it is, it’s like… I’m reading the thoughts of one man in a flash, then another from somewhere else, then another – and then they disappear, and it’s empty… no… that’s not it.”

He frowned and leaned his weight heavily on the windowsill. Erik stood beside him, his body shifting impatiently, his mind quiet, leaving him in peace. At last Charles slumped, breathless. “I see empty fields. I see Genosha _from the outside,_ calm and safe, but that’s not… that shouldn’t be happening. That’s not how my mind sees things! I should only be able to see that if I were reading someone’s mind, but if the fields beyond the walls are empty, whose mind is there to read?”

“You’re reading minds in the fields outside the city?” Erik said.

Charles waved his awe away. “Well, yes, but the point is, if there’s no-one there, whose mind am I reading?”

Erik looked out at the empty fields beyond the city. He narrowed his eyes and a cold sensation ran along Charles’ spine. “Charles,” said Erik. “If Stryker came by carriage, and left by teleportation device, where is his carriage now?”

 _Charles!_ Raven’s voice called in his mind, and he jumped. 

“My sister… she says the army is gathering.” _What is it, Raven?_

 _We’re going to fight,_ she said, and he could hear the traces of defiance, determination seeping out through the seams of the privacy she kept from him beyond her words.

Charles squeezed his eyes shut. He didn’t want her to, wanted to keep her safe, all of them. But if war came to them, especially from an army nobody could see, he might not be able to keep any of them safe. _We’ll be right down,_ he said. He turned to Erik. “We must go out there, your people need you.”

Erik shook his head. “I will go out there. You need to stay safe.”

Charles laughed. Erik frowned, and he shook his head. “I’m sorry, my friend, I’m not laughing at you. I was just thinking the same thing about my sister.”

“I’m serious, Charles.”

Charles took his hands. “I know you are,” he said. “And… I appreciate it, I suppose. But I can help, and I will.” He tugged him, and started running down towards the great entrance, still barefoot and dressed in his silks. He heard Erik sigh, then run after him, but he spared little thought for his reticence, his mind running through strategies and discarding them. There was just not enough information.

They both burst into the open air to barely suppressed chaos and panicked movement in the streets below. Bishop, the tall guard who had smiled at Charles on his first day in Genosha, was herding small children into a cellar along with the elderly and injured. Darwin was mustering the regular troops, while Janos gathered those able to fight, but who were untrained. Raven, Sean and Alex were with him, as was Logan.

Charles spotted some of the older children in that pack and narrowed his eyes. He was about to dive into the group and drag Jean and Scott off to join Bishop and the others, when a crack behind him signalled Azazel. “Charles,” Erik called. “Come quickly!”

He spun around and ran back up the stairs to the King’s side. Emma Frost stood by Azazel’s side, as did a pretty, dark-haired woman. Erik clasped Charles’ shoulder. “Charles, you and Emma should work together, try to find out what’s going on with what you can see out in the fields.”

He turned to the other woman, and Emma put her hand on her elbow. “This is Moira McTaggart, Latveria’s resistance leader. She’s a tactical genius.”

“I’m happy to help, your Majesty,” Moira said, her chin high, standing almost to attention. 

Erik dipped his head. “Thank you for your support,” he said, and Charles could hear his uncertainty, his curiosity at who she was and why she was with Emma. He could then hear Erik putting it neatly to one side, out of his mind for the time being.

“Ms Frost,” Charles said. “If I may, I can show you what I experienced earlier when sweeping the fields around Genosha for information.”

Emma’s eyebrow rose elegantly. “You can read that far?”

“I—yes, my range is unusual. But the problem is that I can’t determine where these flashes of vision are coming from, as if I’m reading the mind of an empty field.”

She frowned, focusing, and he felt the sharp, chill presence of her mind in his, watching through his memories. When they returned to the present, she looked at him, her eyes wide. “I’ve never seen anything like that before… is it possible we’re working with a mutant here?”

Charles nodded grimly. “Stryker had control of Logan and Laura, it’s not outside the realm of possibility for him to have another mutant with him – or one of his ‘creations’, perhaps.”

Emma nodded, looking out towards the army as they gathered. “We might be able to boost one another’s powers, then,” she said, nodding as if it was decided already. And indeed it was, for Charles would not have refused anything that could help Genosha. 

She held her hands out, palm up, and Charles immediately met them with his own. They closed their eyes and sank into one another’s minds, a whirling sea of ice and storming winds. Every thought, every memory, every embarrassment he hid from the world was exposed to her, and Charles fought the urge to tear himself away from her, close himself off, cover the beating, bleeding heart of himself from the burn of her gaze. 

But she too was exposed to him, and in an instant he knew every horror of her life. It was like fighting against great waves, kicking desperately to push themselves up, grab the next gasp of air. Charles set his jaw and dug deep instead, and they found themselves on an iceberg in the stormy sea of their shared mindspace.

“Reach out!” she shouted, tears crystalline on her cheeks, her hair blown every which way. “You have the greater range, you carry us to the anomaly, I’ll tease out the truth.”

They gripped each other’s wrists, now, and Charles reached out, feeling her power boosting his, casting a great net over every mind within miles of the city. Here were the flashes of truth, of a mind’s eye, a view of the city at peace, smoke rising from cooking fires in the still air. Here was a vision of the rolling hills, distant mountains, the ponies grazing in the sun.

And here a sharp, single flash, a vision of bodies, of metal against metal, of war-horses whickering and the cry of ‘steady, men, wait for my signal!’

Charles gasped, but the flash was gone. He frowned, refocusing, and now he could feel Emma’s power, her diamond-sharp claws picking at the single crack he’d found, peeling it back. He drew back from the great distance he’d covered, putting the weight of his telepathy behind hers, now, a sledgehammer on a chisel, and the illusion shattered with a child’s cry.

Charles and Emma slumped to the ground, panting hard. Moira and Erik cried out their names and ran to them, helping them up. “It’s fine, it’s fine,” Charles croaked, but leaned heavily on Erik as he lifted him up.

The cry went up before he was on his feet. “They are here! They are here! Oh God, they are here!” Charles felt everyone’s panic jangling on his exposed nerves and pressed the heel of his hand to his temple, forcing the pain of the headache back.

Azazel appeared before them, his stoic face unable to hide this fear. “Sokovia… they are close. They just appeared out of nowhere.”

“We can’t fight this,” Darwin said softly from Erik’s side. “There are too many of them, too close.”

Erik clenched his jaw and his fists, and Charles felt the steel in him. “We must,” he said simply.

He ran down the stairs and mounted the horse that waited for him. “Genosha!” he cried, raising his voice. “Sokovia believes that they have a claim on one of us – on a mutant as a weapon. They fail to understand that all mutants are one of ours.”

He wheeled his horse around, majestic on the great grey charger, the crown on his head glinting fiercely in the sun. “We are outnumbered,” he cried. “We are unprepared. But we are mutants. We are Genoshan, and we will not stand by while humans try to steal one of our own! Fight with me!”

The city roared, weapons in the air. 

“For mutantkind! For Genosha!”

Erik turned his horse, his sword high in the air, and rode for the gates. Darwin ordered his men onto their horses, his captain, Jubilee, holding her sword over her head and calling the charge. Janos roared and a wind kicked up around the temporary warriors as they followed.

“Get on, sugar,” Emma called, and Charles whipped around to see her and Moira on two horses of their own, leading another. He rushed down the stairs and leaped onto the back of a chestnut mare, his bare feet cold against the stirrups.

Genosha rode to war.


	15. My Reformation, Glittering O'er my Fault

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Genosha and Sokovia meet in battle.

_My reformation, glitt'ring o'er my fault,_

“It was a mutant, I know it,” Emma cried over the howling wind that Janos was controlling. “Oh, for heaven’s sake,” she muttered, just audible, and then Charles heard her voice in his head. _I felt their mind just as the illusion snapped. A child. It was just a child._

 _We’ll get her back,_ he said, his thoughts immutable.

 _Don’t be an idealist, sugar,_ she said. _We’ve got a war to win. Forget the kid and concentrate on Genosha._

 _All mutants are Genoshan,_ he retorted, but she was right. They had to survive this first.

The horses burst through the gates, the fields opening up in Charles’ peripheral vision. It was like a great breath before a dive, the space between the armies yawning, then crashing together. Charles grit his teeth and rode hard, Emma on his heels in her diamond form, a sword glinting in her dazzling hands. 

Both armies had been wrong footed, Genosha by the initial attack, and Sokovia by the loss of their illusion. Genosha had their mutant powers on their side, and those were masterful, he realised, as he saw Logan leaping towards a battalion of spearmen and decimating them. Charles reached out with his power to try and find the illusionist, but there was so much… so _much_ all around him. So much pain and fear and desperation.

He narrowed his search to all the mutants in the area, their minds glowing bright in his own. His horse wheeled and dodged, her mind almost connected to his, in a very different way to usual. He rode one-handed, his blue robes flying out behind him, his other hand to his temple as he sent a spear of pain through a Sokovian soldier so that he dropped his sword, allowing Kitty to recover. He sent three to sleep so they fell at Darwin’s feet, and Darwin barely spared them a glance before rushing into the next skirmish, his sword red, his skin granite. Charles turned, sending one soldier blind, another stumbling, another unable to use his hands, another asleep, and still, still the battle raged.

There was a shriek, half fury, half fear, and Charles’ heart nearly beat out of his throat as he recognised Jean’s voice. “Jean!” he roared, though he knew she would never hear his voice over the clamour of battle. “Jean, I’m coming!”

The horse leaped a body, and there she was, surrounded, her powers flickering in her terror. She was losing faith in herself, and they were closing in, climbing over the bodies of those she had fought before, and he was going to be too late.

The horse swerved, and Charles fell, rolling as he hit the ground and jumping up with a grunt, his eyes right back on Jean before he had even caught his breath. A soldier behind her reached out, grabbed her hair, and Charles screamed in denial. 

His power, drained though it was, reached out and flowed into Jean, filling the cracks in her armour and her confidence. It flowed out of Jean’s hands, her eyes almost glowing with it, and the force of it tore through the men surrounding her, knocking them off their feet, flattening everything around her with a whipcrack.

Charles slumped in relief, and so did she. “Charles,” she called out, her voice trembling. 

Charles stumbled to her and wrapped her tight in his arms. “What were you thinking?” he demanded, stroking through her hair. “You’re too young!”

She shook her head and clung to him as the battle raged around them. 

“Come on,” he said, and they stood back to back, throwing out their power the way Charles had been doing throughout the fight. And still more soldiers came, endless numbers of humans marching to take the place of those who had fallen. An impossibly large army. Charles frowned.

“We can’t last,” Jean cried, and Charles could feel the exhaustion in every part of her. She was too young to be doing this, and he kicked himself for not catching her before the army left. “They’re going to win… Charles, I can’t go back to—”

“You won’t,” Charles promised. He wished he could find that illusionist.

He stopped, dropping his hand from his temple. “Jean,” he said. “We could make an illusion.”

“What?”

But Charles was sending out his thoughts to Moira, asking her to send Emma along to him. They would need three of them together to do this, he was sure. He saw them approaching from the corner of his eye as he split his attention between keeping every mutant nearby safe if he could, and searching for more of those strange points of view, the ones that contradicted themselves and flickered. Of course, now the illusion was to create more chaos, it was much harder to spot when it went wrong.

Emma leaped off her horse and stood with her back to Jean and Charles, shifting into her telepath form and forming a triangle, the three of them facing outwards. “I hope you’re right about this, sugar,” she said, and he could hear her teeth gritting with tension. Moira circled them, her blade flashing, blood arcing from her sword.

Charles closed his eyes and opened his mind to both Jean and Emma. The storm in their shared mindspace roared, the ice heaving over the waves, the ocean a deep, furious blue below. And flames as high as mountains, crackling around them, burning without fuel.

Jean held out her hands and the ice they stood on lifted into the air. “Well,” said Emma, the hysteria, the awe at Jean’s raw power, clear to all of them, as open as they were to each other. “At least that gives me an idea for an illusion.”

Charles smiled, vicious and sharp, and they moved.

It was like seeing the battlefield from above. The sounds were muted by distance, and by the cold of clouds wrapping around them. Emma sent out a thought, a shape, long and sinuous, with powerful, leathery wings. Jean smiled and reached out with both hands, giving it physicality, a presence. Charles touched his fingers to his temple, and the dragon flew.

The three telepaths watched the dragon swoop over the battlefield, mouth open to show scythe-like teeth, and a glow in its throat that grew, and grew, and burst from its jaws in great roaring flames. The soldiers screamed, and Charles sent the sensation of burning along with the vision of flame that Emma was producing. Jean twisted her wrists and blasted the Sokovians off their feet, throwing them aside with a beat of the dragon’s wings.

The mutants paused, struck with horror as much as the Sokovians, but a bright and shining figure on a grey charger rode towards it with a yell, and the dragon barrel-rolled over the King’s head, wheeling in ferocious joy. Together, the king and the dragon advanced on the Sokovians. A great beat of its wings and vehicles, carriages and cannon, went tumbling end over end. The vastness of Sokovia’s army winked out of existence, reduced to the hundreds it had been before, and the Sokovians fled.

“We did it!” Jean cried, her heart electric with relief and joy.

But then, from one of the fallen carriages, grew a winding, twisting pillar of smoke, a flickering dragon to match their own. It screamed at the Genoshan dragon, beat its wings and took to the air, reaching out razor sharp claws. 

Charles could feel Emma and Jean both turn to face the threat head on, bringing their dragon around to blast through the Sokovian illusion, which was already flickering. “Wait!” Charles cried. “The child – the child’s in that carriage!”

Charles released their connection and opened his eyes, once more with his feet on the ground, surrounded by battle. The dragon he had produced with Emma and Jean flickered and faded, but he paid it no mind, and ran, slipping and stumbling, towards the fallen carriage.

The pitiful cry that reached him was like a knife to the heart, and he redoubled his efforts, running as fast as he could go. He barely slowed when he reached the fallen carriage, thumping into the side, scrambling for the door. 

There was a child inside, arms outstretched, pleading, begging, “I’m sorry, Papa, I’ll do better, I’m sorry!”

Stryker stood over the child, his hand raised above his head, a leather switch already blood-streaked from the child’s arms. Charles didn’t bother letting him speak. He touched his temple, and Stryker fell.

Charles dropped to his knees as soon as the child looked up, cowering into the corner and whimpering. “There, now,” he said in a soft voice. “He won’t hurt you, you’re safe. Will you come with me?”

She shook her head vigorously, terrified. Charles bit his lip. He would rather not, but… he reached into her mind, showing her Genosha, promising her freedom from such abuse. “All mutants are Genoshan,” he said. 

Still the child glanced back at the man on the floor. Charles followed her gaze. “My stepfather used to beat me,” he said, looking up at her. Manipulative, perhaps, but true. “He didn’t like it when I used my power at all. I can use it now. Nobody hurts me anymore.”

She looked at Stryker, lying still. “Is he…”

“He’s alive,” Charles said. More was the pity. “But he’ll keep hurting you if you stay with him. Please, Jason, come with us.”

She slowly uncurled, limping over to him. Charles bent down and picked her up, cradling her close. She watched her fallen father for a long time, until Charles had lifted her out of the carriage and out of sight of him. Then she laid her head on Charles’ collarbone and wept, the strands of her closely cropped hair sharp on his neck.

Emma and Jean stood nearby, Emma back in diamond form and on the lookout. Charles nodded to both of them. Emma nodded back, then shifted back to flesh, standing up on one of the fallen cannon. “Stryker has fallen,” she cried, sending an image of his still form to every soldier in her range. “Sokovia will too!”

The despair spread from their epicenter, a ripple of panic, of retreats sounded and weapons dropped, of every last reserve of energy bent towards escape. The mutants cheered, their voices an ocean of power and relief. Charles looked out over the battlefield and wanted to weep at the blood spilled, the lives lost, the hate dug more deeply into souls than before. It was all so stupid.

“Charles!” Erik called, the thunder of his horse’s hooves growing as he found them. He leaped off the horse and rushed over to him, touching his arms, his face, frowning at the girl in his arms. “Are you OK? Who’s this?”

“It’s the illusionist. Her name’s Jason. Jason Stryker.”

Erik’s eyebrows shot up. “Stryker? That’s… complicated.”

Charles sighed. “I hope not. He was whipping her when I found them.”

Erik’s face darkened and just like that, Charles knew that Jason had become one of them, too.


	16. Shall Show More Goodly and Attract More Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Genosha recovers from the attack, and Charles and Erik grow closer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is mostly fluff and COMFORT! There are still some things bubbling away under the surface there, but right now it's all about recovering from the attack. 
> 
> There is also a serious conversation between Charles and Erik about Erik's past, so warnings for past non-con (nothing explicit AT ALL, they're just allusions, but if you'd like further information please let me know! You can find me on [tumblr!](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/gold-from-straw)

__

_Shall show more goodly and attract more eyes_

As the dust began to settle, and the adrenaline faded from their blood, Charles noticed the Genoshans aching, their shoulder slumping and feet dragging as they scoured the battlefield for their dead and injured. Anyone still hale enough was out until the dusk, carrying their comrades to Hanks new medical room, a heavy silence settling along the plains like fog.

Charles walked back and forth, carrying first Jason, then Alex (with Darwin’s help), then Janos, who limped part of the way back leaning heavily on Charles until Azazel found him and teleported him straight into the palace, his eyes dark with worry. Charles turned back to the field as if in a dream, barely able to lift his head with exhaustion.

Telepaths were particularly useful in this situation, he knew, spreading their powers as far as they could to search for any living minds. But all three of them had used theirs more than they should that afternoon, and Charles’ head throbbed, every stumble sending a piercing pain through his temple. He had sent Jean back hours ago. Emma trudged onwards, but turned diamond after a while, and used her physical strength rather than her telepathy. Charles was the last one left, and he wouldn’t leave until all the mutants had been retrieved. He directed the other rescuers, resorting to pointing in the direction of an unconscious, but living, mind, and stumbled further into the field to check for more.

“Charles,” said Erik, his voice raw and drained. “Is that the last of them?”

Charles rested his cold hands against his eye sockets. “I think so,” he said, his own words painfully loud in the cavern of his skull.

“Come on, then,” Erik said, steadying him as he stumbled and turning him around to walk in the direction of the city. He sighed. “For goodness sake, Charles,” he said. “You’re still barefoot.”

“No time for boots,” he mumbled, leaning into Erik’s side. 

“If you don’t care for yourself, how can you care for Genosha?” Erik asked, squeezing his shoulders.

“Says the first man into battle and the last man to leave,” Charles replied with half a smirk.

They walked the rest of the way in silence, surrounded by the last of the rescuers, Darwin, Emma, Logan and young Kitty. The lamps were late to be lit, the fire-wielding mutant whose duty it was quite possibly in the medical rooms himself. Charles wondered how many had been lost. How many had paid the price to protect their home, their people, and their integrity.

The palace itself was chaos, a harsh contrast to the silence of the star-strewn battlefield. Charles and Erik looked at each other, sighed, and dived into the fray. 

It was almost morning by the time the worst had passed. The cries and whimpers of the wounded were quiet in sleep, and Hank, Marie and Charles sat slumped in a loose circle on the floor, all tables and chairs converted to beds.

Marie had been a surprise. When they arrived at the healing hall, she had been taking instruction from Hank, long gloves reaching up to her elbows and a thick apron over her clothes. “It’s nice to finally feel like I can bring some good to people,” she said softly, answering Charles’ unspoken question. 

Charles just nodded, his head heavy and aching. He had pushed his migraine aside as much as possible to use his powers just a little bit more, turning off people’s pain as needed, and putting others to sleep. Erik, meanwhile, had been wielding four or five fine needles at once, stitching up terrible wounds that Hank said he would never have been able to deal with quickly enough.

Still they had lost three more soldiers. Charles leaned against the wall and closed his eyes, listing the names of the dead like a mantra. He would do better next time, he promised himself. He would set up the net around the city, perhaps enlist Emma and Jean again to boost their powers, anchor telepathic tripwires wherever they could. When she was older, maybe Jason would help, casting an illusion over the city and making it disappear from its enemies. However they could, they would protect their people.

Logan walked into the hall, glancing around until he saw Marie. He walked up to her and shook her arm. “Wake up, kid,” he said. “Can’t sleep here, you won’t be no use to no-one tomorrow if you do.”

She stood up, rubbing her eyes and muttering unintelligible things under her breath, like a child roused too early in the morning. Logan nudged Charles’ calf with his boot and Charles startled, squinting up at him. His eyes were gentle in his hard face. “You too, Chuck,” he said. “You need a place to stay?”

“No,” Charles mumbled, yawning and pushing himself to his feet. “I’d better get back to Erik’s.” 

He winced and looked down at his feet, bruised and bloody, and still barefoot. Logan raised an eyebrow at him. “Can I recommend a pair of boots for your next battlefield?”

Charles giggled, hysteria bubbling up in him in the absence of anything funny. “Concubines don’t wear shoes,” he said, and wobbled off to find Erik.

He found him slumped against a different corner, his rich robes bloodstained and his crown tilted so precariously it hung over one eyebrow. “Erik,” he said softly, bending down and nudging him mentally. He’d learned, from Alex and Raven’s violent, panicked reactions in the past, never to wake a fighter by standing over them and shaking them. “Erik, wake up. Come to bed, my dear.”

Erik woke gently under Charles’ mental petting, and Charles helped him to his feet. The two of them walked up the stairs and down the corridors, their arms looped loosely around one another. The door opened with a wave of Erik’s hand, and they fell into bed together, asleep before their heads touched the pillow.

***

Charles awoke with warm, strong arms around him, and groaned at the daytime. Erik chuckled, but Charles could feel the exhaustion coming off him as well. “What time is it?” he all but whispered. 

“It’s past noon,” Erik said, his voice croaky. “I can only tell by the sun, the streets are so quiet.”

Charles kept his eyes shut and snuggled closer to Erik, listening to the sound of voices coming up from the streets below. There was movement indeed, but so little it might just as well have been a Saturday morning, people quiet and contemplative on the holy day. For a moment he and Erik lay languid together, muscles aching, trying to forget all they had lost the day before.

“We won,” Erik reminded him.

Charles shifted. “Yes, we did. That doesn’t mean we didn’t lose as well.”

“I know,” he said, and stroked through Charles’ knotted hair. “We would have lost so much more without you, though.”

“You were magnificent,” Charles replied. “Like a king from one of the old tales – seeing you fight alongside the dragon was straight out of one of my childhood storybooks.”

Erik smiled, his cheek crinkling against Charles’ forehead. They fell into silence again, companionable and calm, Erik’s fingers light and steady through Charles’ curls.

At last they roused themselves. Darwin had left a tray once more, and Charles picked up some fruit with his fingers, eating it as he stripped the filthy, ragged silk to his waist. “Darwin seems to have boundless energy,” he said. “I wasn’t expecting to be fed this morning, not after yesterday.”

Erik smiled over at him and poured a basin of water, washing off the worst of what he should have cleaned the night before, grimacing at the blood crumbling off his skin. “Darwin can adapt to anything,” he said. “He doesn’t get injured, and he doesn’t get tired, so, bless him, he ends up cooking for everyone the day after a battle.” He shook his head. “I suppose that’s how he became head of the household as well as one of my top generals. He just… fell into place.”

Charles joined Erik at the basin, stripping to the waist to clean. Erik blushed and looked away, and Charles grinned up at him. “It’s a shame this tunic was so badly damaged. I should like to keep the clothes I was wearing when you first thought I was beautiful.”

Erik snorted. “I thought you were beautiful the first moment I met you, I just didn’t _tell_ you until yesterday.” He looked at him out of the corner of his eye, then away. “I think you’re beautiful wearing my too-long coats, wearing rough work clothes, wearing… anything, really. I think it’s your smile. And your eyes.”

Charles blushed. He hesitated a moment, then tugged gently on Erik’s hand until he turned to face him. He leaned up, raising himself onto the balls of his feet, and kissed Erik softly. Erik inhaled as their lips met, and his arms slipped around Charles’ waist, tugging him closer so their bare chests pressed together, soft and warm. 

For a long moment the world was reduced to nothing more than the cocoon they made around them, the quiet noises of their kissing, the stroke of skin on skin, the warmth of their bodies so close together it would be hard to separate them. Erik stroked Charles’ hair back from his forehead, pulling back to gaze at his face, touch his nose, his lips, his cheeks. “How did I get so lucky as to find you?” he asked softly.

Charles laughed and leaned in, resting his head on Erik’s shoulder and running his fingertips up and down Erik’s back, feeling the bumps of old scars there and pulling him closer. “I’m the lucky one,” he said. “It’s probably best not to question it, just in case someone takes the luck away.”

He could feel Erik’s smile against his skin, and once again wished he could stay in the circle of Erik’s arms for longer, so much longer. But there was work to be done, people to be helped. They separated reluctantly and pulled on comfortable old clothes. Charles winced as he tried to pull his boots on, though. Erik knelt at his feet and made a face at the soles. “I told you to wear shoes, you fool,” he sighed. “Who on earth goes to battle barefooted?”

Charles shrugged. “There was no time to stop for my boots, you know that very well. I’ll go barefoot again today, they won’t be squashed into shoes now.”

Erik frowned at him, and Charles grinned, wondering how he could ever have seen that as fierce. “Get Hank to take a look at them,” he said firmly. “There are some big cuts on here, they could get infected.”

“Hank has enough work to get on with,” Charles said, waving his hand airily.

“Do it,” Erik grumbled. “If you won’t do it for yourself, do it for everyone else. You’ll be no good to Genosha lying injured in bed.”

“Yes, your majesty,” Charles smirked.

“I should think so,” he said, and helped Charles up. He limped a little, but there was too much to be done to pay much attention to it.

Erik spent most of the day with his generals, Janos having left the medical hall with a splint and two walking sticks. Charles, on the other hand, returned to help Hank and Marie, standing in the centre of the large room with his fingers to his temple and casting his mind across all of the thoughts there, finding any warning signs, encroaching fevers, numbness or unexpected pain. Jean came to join him later that day, accompanying Scott while he sat with Alex. She was soon distracted by Charles teaching her how to search for the injuries. In fact, she ended up taking it further, working on some of the more serious wounds by knitting fine blood vessels together and reconnecting nerves.

“Your power is incredible, Jean,” said Charles, as they sat, exhausted after working together on reconnecting an arm that Hank had been considering amputating. 

“You’re doing most of it, Charles,” she said, her cheeks pinking.

“Not at all,” he insisted. “I’ve got more control, because I’ve had more time to hone it, but I have no telekinesis at all – and I’m certain that when you’re fully trained, you’ll be leaving my telepathy in the dust as well.”

She smiled wide, her joy sweeping out from her like wings. Charles was sure it did everyone in the vicinity the world of good.

Raven came to visit in the evening, holding his shoulders and looking into his eyes for a long moment, then hugging him tight. “You’re an idiot,” she said, tears threatening in her words.

“I love you too,” he joked, squeezing her back.

“I can’t believe you’re still…” she sighed and shook her head, pushing him to sit down and picking up his foot. “Honestly, Charles, how you’re walking around is just a joke! What a mess you’ve made of these!”

“Hey, you’re barefoot all the time,” he complained.

She rolled her eyes. “I’m a shapeshifter, you ass, and I have a healing factor. Marie, would you please get me a bowl of disinfectant for this idiot’s feet? Thank you.”

Erik arrived as she finished the bandages, and nodded to her formally as she stood, her hands clasped behind her. “Thank you, Raven. Charles, bedtime.”

Charles snorted and pushed himself up. “Goodnight, Raven,” he said, opening his arms for a hug.

She squeezed him tight, and longer than he expected. “God, Charles, you’re such…” she let out a shaky sigh. “Such an idiot. I love you, OK? Call me… promise you’ll call if you need me? Please?”

“Of course,” he said, pulling back and stroking her cheek, worried by her concern. He hesitated. “You are all OK, aren’t you? Sean, Alex and Scott?”

She nodded, but her smile seemed forced, and Charles kept glancing back to her as he followed Erik out of the medical hall. “Is she OK?” Erik asked once they were in the quiet of one of the back corridors.

“I don’t know,” Charles mused. “She’s worrying over something.”

“You can’t tell what? You are a telepath, Charles.”

He nudged Erik with his elbow. “I don’t read her mind. It’s just… too intrusive for her, we’re practically siblings.” He snorted. “No teenage girl wants her brother in her mind as she’s going through puberty.”

“She’s not a teenager anymore,” Erik pointed out with a frown.

Charles shrugged. “I’m not going to go looking into her mind without an invitation,” he said. “I avoid it if possible – unless someone’s in danger.”

Erik hummed quietly. He looked away for a moment, then spoke a little faster than usual. “You know you’re welcome in mine. My head. Any time you like.”

Charles smiled up at him and caught his hand, linking their fingers together. “Thank you, Erik,” he said softly.

Erik smiled down at him, then looked away, his cheeks pinking once more. Charles found himself hopelessly endeared. 

The moon was bright through Erik’s bedroom window, and Charles yawned and stretched. “It’s later than I thought,” he said.

Erik snorted. “Why do you think I dragged you away from the medical hall?”

Charles grinned. “As if you noticed the time. Who was it who sent you to get some rest?”

Erik rolled his eyes. “Janos,” he muttered. “He sent Azazel with the message.”

Charles laughed and washed himself at the basin again. He looked forward to a proper bath, he felt quite disgusting. But asking for hot water at this time of the night, only a day after the battle, would have been unbearably selfish. He resigned himself to stinking. At least Erik would smell the same. 

They actually made it beneath the covers of the great canopied bed that evening. There was a moment of shy awkwardness, before Charles realised he was much too tired for such foolishness, and snuggled up to Erik, tucking his head on Erik’s shoulder and throwing an arm and a leg over him.

“Is this OK?” he asked softly, his eyes already closing in comfort.

Erik nodded, but Charles could feel the words just beneath Erik’s breath, feel the confession he had, the tension. He leaned up on his elbow. “Would you like me to…” he waggled his fingers above his own temple. Erik nodded once more, relieved.

Charles lay back on the pillow and slipped into Erik’s mind, a captivating combination of angular metal and warm affection. Charles could feel his own fluid thoughts rushing through Erik’s careful, regimented ones, sliding between the edges of his mind and filling the beautiful spaces. 

In the centre sat Erik, cross-legged on a thick, woolen rug, his fingers fiddling awkwardly. Charles sat in front of him and smiled. Erik looked up, and as their eyes met, Charles could feel the seismic waves of affection, of fondness, something new but deepening every day they were together, sliding down into the base of Erik’s soul, freefalling unchecked. He almost wept with the power of it, the force and sincerity of Erik’s feelings. He reached out and brushed his cheek, pressed his forehead to Erik’s.

Erik clasped his wrist and pressed closer. “I don’t want… I can’t…” He took a deep breath. “I can’t…”

Charles could see his fear now, too, the horrors of his past, and his heart ached, threatened to crack with the pain of it, the pain Erik had endured. “I don’t want you to touch me,” Erik said, his voice a croak. “I can’t… please don’t, not like that? Please?”

“Of course not,” Charles said, his own voice a whisper through the tears and grief for Erik. 

“I… maybe one day I’ll be able to, but…”

“No,” Charles said, shaking his head. “Only if _you_ want to. Erik, I could happily go through life by your side and never want sex.” Erik turned his face, hunching his shoulders, disbelief dull through his mind. Charles wiped his tears away. “It’s true. I wish… I wish I could take that man and all he did to you and Janos and the others and just… destroy him.”

Erik huffed a laugh and wiped his own cheeks. “We did that already,” he said.

“Good,” Charles said fiercely. Erik looked up at him, his shoulders hunched and sad, and Charles opened his heart, inviting Erik into his mind in turn, holding out all he felt for Erik and how much he was beginning to mean to him. The two of them seemed to float on nothing, surrounded by the swirl of their shared emotions, both laughing softly, both wiping tears off their faces. At last Erik opened his arms and Charles crept closer, curling against him. Slowly they retreated from their mindscape and felt the bed beneath them, the covers resting over them. Erik pulled Charles closer, almost completely on top of him, and pressed his face into Charles’ neck, his cheeks still damp. Charles held him tight and surrounded him with the promise of safety.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is... not fluffy at all. Muahahah!
> 
> Also I have some SUPER EXCITING NEWS!!! I've signed a publishing contract for my original novel and it should come out in spring 2021 AAAAHHHHHH!!! I can't tell you how much AO3, fanfic, and this amazing, supportive, creative community has helped me working towards this process - I've wanted to be a professional writer most of my life and writing fanfic has helped me improve SO much, and given me so much more confidence, as well as introducing me to some of the best friends I've ever had. THANK YOU ALL!!!
> 
> I blog about my original stuff over on [WordPress,](https://lynhemphillauthor.wordpress.com/) so if you'd like to learn more about those stories you'd be so welcome to come chat with me either on there or on [Tumblr!](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/gold-from-straw)


	17. That Which Hath no Foil to Set it off

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stryker hasn't finished with them yet...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING! Violence, death, poisoning, and electric shocks in this chapter! Remember that this fic does NOT have a MCD warning for a reason, I promise! Happy ending coming soon!

__

_Than that which hath no foil to set it off._

Erik felt like he was drifting, wrapped warm in Charles’ arms. His eyes ached from crying, but his heart felt like it had been mended. Painful, but healing. He had never thought he could have this with anyone, the touch and the closeness without being expected to accept anything more. Like so much to do with Charles, it felt almost too good to be true. He tightened his arms around his compact body, pressing him closer, the feel of him addictive. 

And then Charles tensed, his powers sharpening, stretching out away from Erik. Erik frowned, opened his mouth to speak, to ask what Charles had noticed, and in that moment Charles leaped.

Something tumbled to the floor, a guttural grunt as Charles landed on top of a person, a man with the sheen of a helmet covering his head. Erik struggled out of the covers, reaching out for the metal on the man’s body, there _must_ be metal! The helmet… it couldn’t be _his,_ it couldn’t.

Charles threw punch after punch, scrabbling at the helmet, that hated thing – Erik had destroyed it, shattered it into pieces after he and the others had killed Shaw! The man on the ground snarled and punched Charles in the ribs, and Erik snapped out of his frozen horror, rushing for the man. Before he could get there, Charles bared his teeth, gripped the helmet, and _twisted._

There was a sickening crack, and the man lay still. Charles sagged back, clutching at his ribs, and Erik dropped to his knees beside him. “What was that? How did you know? Are you OK? Charles?”

“I heard… fragments,” Charles panted. “His helmet… it’s keeping most of the thoughts hidden, but some… I think that helmet’s been broken and re-forged, it’s not as smooth as it could be. It’s not…” He paused and grimaced, then moved his hand. “Oh,” he said, his voice soft and surprised. 

Erik looked at the dark smudge across his palm, and the growing stain over his chest, and his heart started thundering so hard he could barely see. “Charles… no, hold on. Charles, look at me! Hold on!”

He picked Charles up and rushed through the corridors, down to the medical hall where the light burned low. “Hank!” he screamed, his voice strangled. “Hank! Where the hell are you?”

“Your Majesty, just here,” Hank said, stumbling out from a side room, rubbing his eyes. “Is there… oh… oh my God.”

“Help him!” Erik demanded. Pleaded.

Hank looked around at the room, beds either full of the injured or not yet clean from their previous occupants. “To your quarters, your Majesty,” he said, his uncertainty suddenly dropping away before a firm, assertive voice. “I’ll be right there, let me gather my equipment.”

Erik hurried back to his room, cradling Charles close, his mind a whirl of panic, begging to wake from the nightmare. Charles groaned softly, his fingers tightening in Erik’s tunic, and Erik looked down, forcing himself to smile. It must have looked a ghastly grimace. “Hold on, Charles, you’ll be fine. It’s only a little scratch.”

“Can’t see,” Charles mumbled, his voice slurred, his fingers gripping in spasms. 

Erik laid him gently on the sheets and bent over him, brushing his hair away from his face tenderly. “It’s alright,” he hushed. “You’ll be right as rain in no time, just stay with me, OK?” He frowned at himself, forced himself to calm down and send soothing thoughts to Charles – he should never have allowed himself to become so agitated around a wounded telepath, that must have been horrible for – no, calm thoughts. He imagined wrapping Charles in a tight hug, snuggled up safe in their bed together, like they had been such a short time ago. He swallowed hard against the tight constriction of his throat.

Hank followed moments later, kicking the door shut behind him. He made quick work of cutting Charles’ clothes off to his waist. The wound was small, the length of his thumb at the most, but the skin at the edges was blackened, and the damage seemed to be spreading. “Poison,” Erik snarled.

Emma appeared in the room just beyond the body of the would-be assassin, Azazel gripping her arm. She glanced around, her eyes sharpening their focus. “Bastards,” she hissed. “Do you have the antidote?”

Hank shook his head, never taking his eyes off Charles as he tested vital signs, pulling his eyelids up, listening to his heart. “I need the knife that was used. We need to find out what poison it was, and fast.” He shook his head again. “Even with all the chemical tests prepared, we’d never find out what it is in time!”

Emma wrapped the hem of her dress around the handle of the knife and beckoned to Azazel again. “Oh, I think we’ve got a faster way of finding out what Stryker sent,” she said, vicious relish thick in her voice. 

Erik didn’t even look up when they disappeared, clutching at Charles’ damp hand. Charles was frowning, labouring for breath, his back almost arching as he sucked in whistling gasps that barely seemed enough to fill his lungs. “He’s dying! Hank, he’s dying, what can we…” He squeezed his eyes shut and prayed, his mind almost blank with the terror, the horrific thought of losing someone else so important to him. “Please…”

Hank snarled in frustration, throwing a tincture of some sort aside. “Like fighting a fire with a drinking glass,” he muttered, clutching at the thick hair over his face. He hesitated, then looked up at Erik. “There is… something. It’s experimental—”

“Do it then!” Erik demanded.

“No, my king, you don’t understand. This is completely untested, with nothing more than anecdotal evidence in its support, and—”

Erik grabbed him by the collar. “If we do nothing, he will die!”

“Y-yes. Yes, that’s true. Well… We need lightning.”

“Lightning?” he said flatly.

“I told you! Experimental!”

“There is _no storm,_ Hank!”

“No,” said Hank, “but there _is_ significant experimental evidence suggesting that electricity and magnetism are two sides of the same coin. It’s very interesting, actually, the induction effect—”

“Hank!”

“Yes! Wires – we need wires, and you. The wires need to be in a coil, and you need to provide a changing magnetic field around them, which should generate a current, and that a spark. Wires… where will we get – oh.”

For Erik had snatched his crown off the desk, levitating it over to himself in a frenzy and stripping it into a long, thin string. He wrapped the wire into a thick coil and held it in front of him, between the palms of his hands. “A changing magnetic field, you say.”

“Ah… yes,” Hank said, his eyes wide.

“Then you will need to guide the ends to produce the spark,” Erik said, focusing all his power on fluctuating the fields around the wire. He could almost feel the particles in the wire beginning to flow as he did so, and dug into the sensation, accelerating them through the metal.

Hank used cloth-wrapped hands to grab the ends of the wire and touched them to each other, generating a spark. Erik saw it out of the corner of his eyes and felt a deep, snarling satisfaction. This would work. It had to! Hank pressed both ends to Charles’ chest, and Charles’ limp body jolted as if he’d been hit. 

Erik immediately dropped the wires and bent over Charles again. “Did we harm him? Did it work?” 

He was still struggling to breathe. Erik’s heart sank, threatening to leave his body entirely. Charles’ tongue was visible at the front of his mouth, swollen and heavy, his lips turning blue, his mind unresponsive. Erik felt like holding this horror and pain back was akin to holding back a great wave.

“The swelling is going down, my king! I’m sure of it!”

“It is?” Erik snapped, looking down at Charles’ chest and up at Hank. “You’re sure?”

Hank wasn’t, Erik could tell. But he nodded firmly. “I would stake my life upon it.”

Erik lifted the coil again and poured his power, his prayers, all his hope and… and this depth of feeling he felt for Charles. The affection. The love. He felt tears forming on his cheeks, falling down his chin as Hank sent shock after shock into Charles’ ribs.

 _Please, Charles,_ he thought. _Please come back to me. Please. My love._

The coil in the air between his hands was glowing red hot with the friction of the particles spinning around it. Everything narrowed down to this task, this last, desperate hope. Erik would have poured his soul into that coil, into Charles’ heart, if he could.

The sound of Charles’ cough felt like the finest music, and Erik cast the almost molten circlet of metal aside, sending it to hiss onto the stone floor. “Charles… Charles, can you hear me? Can you hear me?”

Charles lifted his hand, his eyes fluttering. He touched Erik’s cheek, and the slightest smile raised on his lips. Then he closed his eyes again, his hand falling to the pillow.

His breathing was clear, and even.

Erik placed his head over Charles sleeping, living form and sobbed so hard he thought he might yet lose his heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK so quick explanation about the electrocution thing... I grew up surrounded by venomous snakes, scorpions, sea creatures and spiders (and other things that did not begin with S too!) and have vivid memories of being hooked up to my parents' VW combi battery after I got stung by a scorpion at about 4 years old. Yes. It was terrifying and horrible and I'm still scared of scorpions and electric shocks! However, rather than spending days ill with a fever, I went deep sea fishing with my dad the next day with no ill effects.
> 
> I remember people from villages for miles around (and across the border in Tanzania) coming to my grandparents for medical help because (a) my granny had nurse training, (b) we had a car and would take people to the hospital 2 hours or so away and (c) they had an electric cattle prod.
> 
> I've seen people with their legs swollen so hard the skin looks seconds away from bursting. Someone in my family would electrocute them a few times (we're talking a sharp, unpleasant shock, not a tazer here!) and we would literally watch the swelling decrease. It seemed to be particularly effective on puff adder venom, which is what I've based this scene on. I've never seen a person bitten by a puff adder thankfully, just a dog, and yes, the dog lived.
> 
> I've done my research, looked for scientific articles on this stuff. The data is really not conclusive at all - testing it would be horribly unethical for a start! But this tactic is used by people in all sorts of isolated places and there is anecdotal evidence that it's a lifesaver - especially when the time it would take to get you to a hospital with antivenom would be plenty long enough to kill you.
> 
> tl:dr - there is no scientific evidence that electric shocks will save you from snake venom, only my own personal experience and lots of anecdotal evidence.


	18. To Make Offense a Skill

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erik nurses Charles back to health... and forgets what outsiders might think...

__

_I’ll so offend to make offense a skill,_

“It was a cytotoxic venom,” Emma said as the sun cast its early orange fingertips across the sky. “Extracted from a particular species of snake native to Zinariya, which I think will be interesting to Lord Bindiga. He doesn’t take kindly to poaching and trafficking of Zinariya’s flora and fauna.”

Erik rubbed his dry, itchy eyes and didn’t care. He stared out of the window. Charles lay beside him, his breathing still steady, but his mind lost to the deepest kind of slumber.

“At least we know how to treat the wounds now Charles is stable once more,” said Hank, his eyes sharp with focus. “We have to ensure this cut doesn’t become infected… I think cutting away this necrotic tissue will be the first course of action.”

“Will it not heal?” Azazel asked, raising his eyebrows.

Hank made a face. “It’s not worth the risk. It _may_ heal, but it may also become gangrenous, and it’s just too close to his heart and lungs for such a gamble.”

“Do it,” Erik said. “Emma, would you…”

“Keep him asleep? Of course, sugar,” she said, and rolled up her sleeves. “We doing this now?”

“I think it would be best,” Hank said.

Erik brushed Charles’ hair back again and wished he could just curl up around him, cut off from the rest of the world.

***

Erik didn’t know if he got any sleep over the next few days. He didn’t know how many days passed, how long it was between dressing changes, and treatments, and fevers, and from one breath to the next.

Hank slept almost as rarely as Erik, splitting his time between Charles and the others in the medical halls. Janos and Emma took over Erik’s duties quietly, and the palace went almost into lockdown under Emma’s iron fist, none of them wanting to risk another attempt. Charles slept too, fitfully at first, as the fever ravaged his body, sweat drenching the sheets below him. Erik focused everything on him, the world outside meaningless compared to sponging Charles’ skin, keeping him as well as he could, singing to him softly and calling him back with his mind and heart.

And then the door burst open. Erik didn’t know what day it was, what time it was, but he leaped over the bed between Charles and the intruder and snarled, pulling all metal in the area to his command. Raven stood there in a furious fighting stance, her teeth bared. Behind her were arrayed a dizzying collection of mutants – the Westchestrians, Logan and Laura, the children from the town. Even Darwin. And…

“Princess Shuri?” Erik said, frowning and dropping his metal in disbelief.

“What have you done with my brother, you bastard?” Raven snarled, her voice breaking with fear.

Erik looked back at the bed, then at the delegation at his door. “Nothing!”

“Don’t look like nothing to me,” Logan growled. “You’ve been making him walk around barefoot, forcing him to stay with you - after all your talk of no mutants being slaves.”

“The rumours of a body brought out of your room at dawn have even reached Wakanda,” Shuri said, her hands on her hips. She glanced at Charles behind Erik and her lip twitched. “You can see how one might become concerned, even if they knew you well, Erik.”

Erik threw up his hands. “Are you serious? Are you all _serious?_ What, did you think I’ve been beating him? Using him in the way… the way _that man_ intended when he ‘gifted’ him to me? You, I can understand,” he said, gesturing at the Westchestrians, Logan and Laura. “But you, Darwin? And Shuri?”

“I had to be sure,” Darwin said seriously. “I had to know for myself – better to be ashamed of assuming the worst than turn a blind eye to abuse.” He bowed at the waist, deeper than was necessary for a man of his rank.

Erik deflated and slumped onto the side of the bed. “There was an attack,” he said at last. “The Sokovians. Charles saved my life and was stabbed with a poisoned knife.”

The tension radiating from the group of would-be protesters shifted. Even without telepathy Erik could feel their anger turn to worry. Raven hastened over to Charles, her hands hovering above his face and chest, and she knelt next to him with a soft cry. “Charles… what have you done to yourself now, you idiot?”

Erik shifted on the bed to face her and felt the bone deep exhaustion take him again as the adrenaline drained. 

“Come now,” Shuri said, gesturing to the mutants gathered at the door. “Let us return to Emma and Janos. I believe we have apologies to give, and help to offer.” She turned as she left and smiled fondly at Erik. “I’ve never been so glad to be wrong,” she said. “Rest, King Erik. Your country will be safe, now make sure your young man is too.”

Slowly the others left the room, drifting away, tugging others along with them, until only Jean remained, clutching Jason’s hand, and Raven, still bent over Charles.

“Is he going to be alright?” Jean asked softly, her jaw stiff, as if waiting for a blow to the heart.

Erik nodded. “He just needs time to heal. He’s been… very sick, but he’ll come back soon.” He glanced up at her and she met his gaze, that uncannily adult gaze that knew Erik was saying so in hopes of _making_ it true.

“Can we visit him?”

Erik nodded again. “I think he’d like that,” he said, a slow smile creeping across his face.

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me,” Raven said, glaring at him. She had Charles’ hand in hers, linking his fingers with hers and stroking over the back of his hand.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t think… I don’t think I’ve thought of anything since it happened. I don’t even know what day it is.”

Raven’s expression softened. “I thought he was just trying to make me feel better,” she said. “But you really do care about him.”

Erik could feel his face burning and ducked his head, picking up Charles’ other hand and nodding. He felt like that’s all he had the energy for, the only affirmation he could manage with his eyes prickling and his throat swelling under the force of it.

“Erik’s always loved him,” said Jean flippantly, tugging Jason over to the bed. “He just _looks_ grumpy.”

Erik snapped his head up and glared at her. Raven looked startled, then laughed. “Yes… I think I see how it is.” She lifted Charles’ hand to her lips and kissed it, then laid it gently on Charles’ chest. “Come on, girls. Let’s let our glorious leader get some rest.” She quirked Erik a small, but genuine smile. “Thank you,” she said, and led the children out of the room.

Erik smiled to himself, then tugged the covers out from under himself and lay down next to Charles, their fingers still linked.

***

It started as a fizzing in his mind, bubbles rising from the depths of his consciousness. Erik shifted, frowned, and found himself with his arms full of Charles. Charles, soft, warm and so _alive_. He froze, disbelieving, then clutched Charles to him, holding him tight as they drifted in the deep black mindspace between them.

“Charles,” he said. “Charles.” It was all his mind could produce, the only thought, the only focus, all he could do to touch him everywhere, hold him, stroke his hair, his arms, the freckles across his nose, his lips. He was here. He was _here._

“Hello, Erik,” Charles said, his voice a laugh in the vast echoing sky. “I’m sorry I was away so long.”

“I’ve missed you so much,” Erik breathed, his face wet with tears. “Are you…” He frowned and leaned back, drinking in the sight of him. “Are you back? Really back? Not just in my mind?”

“Open your eyes and see.”

Erik opened his eyes. It was like winning a tug of war with his exhaustion, and he blinked blearily, his vision fuzzy and painful with the light streaming in the window. But the first thing he saw was blue, that perfect blue.

Charles smiled, his face gaunt, his eyes shadowed and exhausted. “Hello, my friend,” he said again. Here in the outside world, it was rough and strained, but Erik had never heard anything so beautiful.

Erik leaned up over Charles and kissed him, on his lips, his eyes, his cheekbones, his hair. “Hello, my love,” he said, and laughed, joy sparkling over them like sunlit rain through his tears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lol this fic was originally called 'The One Where Charles Accidentally Leads A Coup'! Only the epilogue (which is ENTIRELY fluff!) to go ;_; thank you so much for sticking with this and all your lovely kind messages!! Bring on the fluff, we freaking need it right now lol!


	19. Redeeming Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a fluffy epilogue...

__

_Redeeming time when men think least I will._

“They did _what?”_ Charles gasped, between bouts of laughter.

Erik smiled down at him. The fond gaze was like a weighted blanket of affection and relief and love, and that in itself took Charles’ breath away. That love. It was like nothing he’d ever felt, and he was its addict now. He smiled up at Erik, his cheeks aching with joy. 

Erik stroked his fingers down Charles’ temple over and over, so content to be _with_ Charles, so at peace. “You are the only person in history to lead a coup by accident, I’m sure,” he said, eyes twinkling.

Charles caught his hand and pressed a kiss to his palm. “I would have stopped them had I known,” he said, the fond apology clearer as his humour turned to seriousness. “You are the best ruler Genosha could ever hope for, and anyone who leads a coup against you would be an idiot.”

“Well, if the shoe fits,” Erik grinned.

Charles rolled his eyes. “I cannot be an idiot if I’m unconscious!”

“That is true. In fact, that might be the only time you truly _can’t_ be an idiot.”

Charles jabbed him in the ribs and Erik squirmed and protested, his eyes crinkling up. “I _meant,”_ said Charles, “that anyone who dared lead a coup against you would have to get through me first.”

Erik leaned over Charles and cupped his face. “Yes,” he said, his face very serious. “You have shown that to be true, and I beg you, Charles, don’t put me through that again.”

“I will protect my king and my country with everything I have,” Charles said instead, stroking Erik’s cheek as he pressed their heads together. “I can’t regret it, and I would do it again.”

The door flew open and Raven waltzed in. “Break it up, you two, there are children present.”

“There shouldn’t be,” grumbled Erik. “Where did you learn to enter a king’s chambers?”

“Genosha,” she said with a cheeky smirk.

“That is patently untrue,” Charles protested. “You always walked into my room in Westchester the same way.”

“That’s only a prince’s chambers, not a king,” Raven said, waving a hand. “Now, step back, Erik, you’ve monopolised my brother quite enough now.”

“I think I preferred her when she was afraid of me,” Erik grumbled as he sat up, leaning back against the headboard. Charles linked their fingers together and grinned up at him, semi-apologetically.

“Come on, you two,” Raven called.

“Is he really OK?” Jason said from outside the door. 

“He really is,” Jean replied before Raven could, sounding slightly exasperated. 

“You can come in,” Charles called.

Jason poked her head around the door, long blonde curls tumbling over her shoulders. Charles startled to see them, until he realised they must be one of Jason’s illusions. He held out his hand to the little girl as she crept closer, clutching at Raven’s hand, suddenly shy again. Jean, on the other hand, jumped straight onto the bed beside him, throwing her arms around him and kissing him on each cheek. “We’ve been so worried about you, Charles!” she said, sitting back up. “I mean, I knew you were getting better when Erik’s panic started to fade a little, but _still!” ___

__Erik snorted and looked off to the side, pink tinting his cheeks. Charles squeezed his hand. “I’m fine, girls,” he promised, smiling at both of them, holding their gaze. Raven and Erik snorted, remarkably in sync. “I really am!” he insisted._ _

__“You really aren’t,” Hank said from the doorway, walking in with medicines and new dressings. “But you will be, and that’s a good start. Now, if we may have some privacy, ladies?”_ _

__Raven shapeshifted into Janos and raised an eyebrow at Hank, who stuttered something. She ignored him and leaned down to kiss Charles, shifting into her own form. “Take your time getting better, you hear me?” she said softly. “I don’t want to see you wandering out of this room for at least a week! You don’t have a healing factor.”_ _

__“Rub it in, why don’t you?” Charles sighed. “Very well, I’ll take it easy.”_ _

__She narrowed her eyes at him, then glanced up at Erik and shrugged. “I’m sure his Majesty will keep you in line,” she said. “Come on, girls, let’s take the good news to the others.”_ _

__Charles watched them fondly as they left, then struggled into a sitting position to give Hank easier access. Erik shifted across to support him, and Charles leaned into him, too tired to resist the loving embrace._ _

__“Azazel brings news from Sokovia, your Majesty,” said Hank, and Charles idly noticed that Hank’s nerves were nowhere near as heightened when he addressed Erik as they had once been. “The resistance has been successful.”_ _

__Erik looked up quickly. “They have? Already?”_ _

__Hank nodded. “Wakanda have been vocal in their condemnation of Stryker’s regime; the attack on Genosha has been more widely publicised than we expected. Zinariya, too, were making moves to impose sanctions on them after a poaching gang was exposed with links to Sokovia at the highest level.”_ _

__Erik nodded. “Bindiga has always been admirably anti-neo-colonial, and isolationist. For Sokovia to target Zinariya in such a way must have been a deliberate insult.”_ _

__“Indeed. And the rebel army has not wasted this opportunity.”_ _

__“Moira?” said Charles, his ears perking up._ _

__Hank nodded and grinned. “General McTaggart is now the leader of the Republic of Sokovia,” he said. “By all accounts, Lady Frost is eager for your Majesty to resume duties so she can spend more time with her.”_ _

__“In a strictly ambassadorial position, of course,” said Emma, sweeping in with a rustle of silks._ _

__Erik threw up his hands. “Do I need to post guards?”_ _

__“As if they would be able to stop me, sugar,” she said. She glanced over at Hank, who had scrambled to his feet, bent over in a deep bow. “Oh, do continue, I don’t care that you’ve been talking about me. Who wouldn’t, after all?”_ _

__Charles smiled at her. “I believe my thanks are in order,” he said. “To you, and so many others. And congratulations to Moira.”_ _

__Emma inclined her head. “In thanks, you can get better,” she said. “That way your beau here will return to his throne, and you can continue to cast your net of protection around Genosha. That way I shall be able to carry your congratulations to Moira in person.”_ _

__“I’m sure I’ll be up and about in no time,” Charles smiled._ _

__“No,” said Hank and Erik at the same time._ _

__The two blinked at each other, then Erik gestured for Hank to continue. “I mean,” said Hank, looking nervously between Emma and Charles. “That your infection is still just being held at bay, and if you were to exhaust yourself, you might succumb once more.”_ _

__Emma rolled her eyes. “I didn’t mean right now,” she said. “After all, I can make short trips to Sokovia with Azazel, as long as I bring him the good vodka on my return. I play the long game, Charles. Your continued health and well-being is in my interest. After all, Erik would be a tragic mess without you.”_ _

__Charles laughed through Erik’s indignant protestations as Emma flounced away, sending him a sense of sparkling warmth so rare for her mind._ _

__He lay back as Hank finished his bandages and stood up. “It’s looking much better,” Hank said. “I still recommend plenty of rest - the more you rest now and give your body time to heal, the faster you’ll recover.”_ _

__“I’ll make sure he does,” assured Erik._ _

__Hank gave them both a brisk smile and took his leave. Charles let out a long breath and laid his head against Erik’s shoulder as he lay down again. “People keep threatening me to rest as if I have any inclination to leave the cradle of your arms again,” he laughed softly._ _

__Erik kissed him on the top of the head. “I think they know you better than yourself,” he said wryly. “You may be tired now, and willing to rest, but I doubt any of us will be able to keep you here for more than a few days.”_ _

__Charles thought about it and wrapped his arms around Erik’s waist. “You’ll just have to incentivise my rest, your Majesty, by getting some rest yourself,” he said._ _

__Erik yawned and chuckled, kissing Charles once again. His thoughts in Charles’ mind softened at the edges, becoming unfocused and hazy as Erik allowed himself to relax, drifting off. “That sounds like a trade I could live with,” he said, and Charles smiled and closed his eyes._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so, so much for all your wonderful comments and kind support! I struggled through the first few chapters, but I'm so glad FlightInFlame encouraged me so well, because once I got to the crazy political and battle stuff I had a brilliant time writing this! I hope you'll go read her [Genoshan Prince series](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1446409), it definitely inspired this story and I CAN'T BELIEVE I FORGOT to link it at the beginning!! I DO know how to do 'inspired by' links, how tf did I forget this time?!?!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Tarnished (Bright Metal Remix)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24919234) by [flightinflame](https://archiveofourown.org/users/flightinflame/pseuds/flightinflame)




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